


Clasp Of Iron

by and_damntheconsequences



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Curse of Obedience, Curses, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Magic Revealed, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Sidhe, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24680713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/and_damntheconsequences/pseuds/and_damntheconsequences
Summary: Merlin hadn't meant to upset a faery, and he wished he'd had the sense to run before it got to that. This curse was every bit as painful as it was annoying, and if he didn't manage to lift it before he made yet another mistake, it could easily be his neck on the line.Or, Merlin breaks every single faery rule within approximately one week, and then has to deal with the consequences.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 94
Kudos: 623





	1. Iron

**Author's Note:**

> In terms of timing I'm gonna say in between series 4 and 5, but Gwen and Arthur didn't get back together after her banishment was revoked. Aside from that, I think everything else up to this point is canon. 
> 
> This should be only 5 chapters long, I don't want this to be a fic that carries on for too long, because I want to focus on my other one. But that might change.

Merlin's curiosity was going to be the death of him one day. That was, if his stupidity didn't kill him first.

He'd only gone into the woods to collect herbs for Gaius. As manservant to the King, he didn't have much time to spare for that now, but Gaius wasn't as young as he used to be. Without being so able to rush off by himself, he often found himself running low on various types of medicines that he couldn't grow from within the citadel, and no one else knew the plants quite so well as Merlin. Arthur had understood that, albeit reluctantly, and with a sickness beginning to spread in the lower town, he'd been given the day to collect herbs.

A full day out of the city was rare, and it wouldn't take him more than a few hours to fill the bag Gaius had handed him. But it did mean, as he realised a little too late, that if something went wrong, it'd be a while before anyone noticed he was gone.

At first, he'd tried to ignore the flickering purple lights in the corner of his eye. He managed to convince himself that it was nothing, and when that became a clear lie, that it was nothing he should have any interest in. For a while, that had worked well, and he'd pushed the thought of it aside, until the lights dancing ahead of him had vanished. When he heard a voice singing through the birch trees, sounding both so young and so enchanting, his resolve had broken, and he'd gone to explore.

It didn't take long to realise what a mistake that was.

The lady before him should have been attractive in all normal descriptions of the word — she was tall and slim, with hair that seemed to float down to her waist, almost reminding him of a silver birch tree in her figure. On her lips was a gentle smile, and her eyes seemed alight with youthfulness and peace. This was the sort of lady that men like the Kings knights would probably have stepped over each other for, or fought for the honour of her hand, and behind her mask of love and serenity, Merlin could tell that she knew it.

But she glowed with something unnatural, a magic entirely separate from his own that stuck out like a sore thumb against the land she walked over, and Merlin couldn't miss how her ears curved up to points behind her hair.

"Emrys," she smiled as she noticed him, "It is lovely to see you."

"I would say the same," he replied, "But the Sidhe and I aren't on the best of terms."

"Oh, you _are_ good," she said, and her laughter sounded somehow like a waterfall and the clashing of swords in one, "Tell me, what gave it away? I've never been so good at these human forms."

"The ears," he muttered, surprised enough at the question that he answered it without much thought, "And the magic."

"Mortal men don't usually notice that, though I'll grant you the ears. But how could I forget, you are no mortal, Emrys. You and I are creatures of magic."

"You tried to kill my friend," he said simply. There could be no mistake of loyalties here.

"You have met but one court of our world, and for their actions, I might apologise." Her voice was gentle and warm, and Merlin felt himself almost lulled by it, "Had they known how their actions may offend you, they may perhaps have made different choices. But you and I are natural allies, Emrys. We each have power that the other doesn't. Between us, we could rule the world."

"Arthur is a good King." He found he couldn't splutter out much more. "One day, he will change things. We'll be free."

She laughed again, and it made him feel a little sick. He wanted to run, but without his staff, he didn't know how his magic would match that of a fae and he wasn't too keen to find out.

"I do not desire only freedom, Emrys. I desire power, for the laws to be in our hands, not just on our side. I believe that deep down, you do as well."

"Then you're wrong."

"Tell me, what do you know of Elphame? My world is beautiful, Emrys. I could take you there. We could show you all the wonders of the earth, sea, and sky. We could teach you more power than you might ever know. You would be the product of all we can give, and somehow greater for the weaknesses you wouldn't share."

As she said his name, he felt a tug on his magic as she pulled him further away from reality, and deeper into her voice.

"I know that it isn't Albion. It's not what I want."

"Then we shall take Albion."

"I don't want to rule."

At that, she almost hissed, stung by his words.

"Don't be foolish, Emrys. You need not kneel at the feet of men who only hinder you. With us, you would be revered. You would give us the strength we need. You could be a God among your kind. There would be no war, no path of resistance for those who would fight us. We could have the world."

"I don't want it."

With every word she spoke, he felt himself dragged into a deeper calm, as though a bed was being laid for him, if he would just fall into sleep. His own words were getting harder to say, but he wasn't ready to give up, not yet.

"You are weak, Emrys," she almost spat at him, "I'm offering you a kingdom, and a gift of goodwill and safety in the meantime."

"And I'm _not taking it._ "

With a sharp twist of a smile, she released him from her magical hold, and reality seemed to sting from how fast it rushed back towards him.

"You have disrespected us, Emrys." His name sounded like an insult now. "And for that, you shall live with our curse. Let it remind you who you are, and see how much your King truly cares for you then."

Merlin didn't think to run until it was too late.

 _"Þú efengedælest mín unbletsunge!"_ she shouted after him, and he froze, "Return to us when you know your true loyalties."

At her words, he felt the shift as others of her kind surrounded him, cornering him as they chanted together. Their words wrapped him in a web of magic, like threads tying themselves into his skin and bones, and burying deep into his soul.

 _"Fortendan yn isern, fortendan yn lygen,_ _gehýrsumian úre soþnama!"_

They repeated it over as he ran, and he felt the threads of magic tangle and spin tighter around him, damning him to their spell work. It was only after he was at the edge of Camelot that their voices faded, and he was left with only a half full bag of herbs, and the weight of an unknown curse.

***

When he returned to Gaius, the man saw the worry on his face before he had taken even a few steps through the door.

"So I, assume that wasn't such a peaceful morning for you after all?" he sighed as Merlin handed him his bag.

"What do you know about the Sidhe?"

"As I've told you before. They're creatures of powerful magic, Merlin-"

"And the courts?" he pressed a little further, "Are there different types?"

"From what I know, yes, but most kept to themselves even before the great purge. What-?"

His question was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door.

"Was that Merlin I saw coming back, Gaius?" Arthur's voice rang through.

"I'll be just a minute, Arthur."

"Good. I need someone to serve me dinner, and my armour needs polishing again."

He was gone before Merlin had time to object that he still had herbs to collect, or that he was supposed to have today off. And if he didn't work out what the fae had done to him, it could put them all in danger.

But he couldn't tell Arthur that, so he simply sent Gaius a weak smile, and headed out the door.

Arthur, at least, seemed to be in a good mood for the evening, perhaps glad that the sickness in the lower town had proven less deadly than originally thought. Either he didn't notice how Merlin's mind seemed to be far away, or he wasn't bothered by it, and whichever it was, Merlin was grateful for it. His own thoughts were spinning in circles, trying to work out how the fae had cursed him, or why they had troubled with making it such a quiet curse. They could have killed him outright, being so many of them, and they hadn't. Instead, they'd placed a spell on him that now ran so deep in his blood he could feel the unfamiliar magic within him. But he didn't know what it did, and that worried him more than he'd want to admit.

Were the fae vengeful creatures? He knew they had great patience, but would the offense he had caused condemn him to a slow and painful death? Were they intending to torture him, to draw it out until he was begging for forgiveness? Would he have to wait for it to take effect, to give him a shadow of hope that he had escaped them?

No, that didn't seem right. She'd called to him as she'd began it, to return to them, and she'd seemed genuine in her interest in him, at least at first. This was something more complex than death, but that didn't give him much hope that he'd prefer it.

Still, until he could speak to Gaius, there was nothing he could do, so he tried his best to focus on the task at hand, setting Arthur's plates from the tray to the table.

But as his fingers closed around the cutlery, he felt the sharp sting of a burn spread across his palm, almost like a lashing in how sudden it was. He let the fork fall to the ground with a clatter, nursing his hand to his chest, and trying to work out what the _hell_ had just happened. Arthur was staring at him with a look of mild annoyance and utter confusion.

"Merlin?"

"Uh, yeah?"

Arthur looked at him incredulously, and gestured to the fork.

"Oh yeah, of course."

He knelt down to pick it up, but as Arthur turned to drink from his goblet, he hovered his hand above it. From the metal, he could feel a burning warmth radiating out, which seemed to tingle against his own magic, as if it would cut deeper than a sword could ever reach. His first instinct was to check for curses, but his magic returned nothing he could see or understand. Still, he knew he couldn't touch it without the same pain he'd felt before.

"Merlin? Is there a reason you're still sat on the floor?"

"It's my hand-" he said, the words seeming to escape from his lips before he could stop them.

He prayed that Arthur wouldn't ask too much further; he wasn't sure he would be able to spin enough lies to explain something he didn't even understand the truth of himself.

"Did you hurt it?"

 _I think I might have pulled a muscle,_ is what he wanted to say, but as the string of words formed in his mind, he felt a burning in his throat that felt like he was tasting flame itself.

"I think I..."

The pain was starting to bring tears to his eyes, as much as he fought them back, and he felt the urge to tell Arthur everything that had happened. Everything he'd ever kept from him.

"I think it's hurting because of something I did earlier...when I was out.."

As he said it, the burning faded, though the taste of smoke still lingered on his tongue. He considered adding that he'd tripped, or something to make it sound more credible, but his throat threatened to burn again, and he left it be.

Arthur seemed to recognise that he was in pain, but must have assumed it was only from his hand. Somewhere, there must have been a god or goddess that Merlin owed that to.

"Go and see Gaius about it. I'll expect you back here tomorrow, not before."

Merlin nodded, and darted out of the room without another word. Behind him, Arthur quietly picked up the fork himself, and took another sip from his goblet.

**

"And you're sure the item wasn't cursed," Gaius said, inspecting the burn on Merlin's hand as he applied a salve to it.

Merlin shook his head.

"I checked it with my magic, there was nothing. And, Arthur picked it up as I left and nothing happened to him."

Gaius just nodded, and went back to cleaning the injury.

"There was something else too... when Arthur asked me what happened," Merlin muttered, "I tried to tell him that I might have pulled a muscle, but I couldn't say it. My throat burned up and the words didn't come out."

"You couldn't tell a lie."

Merlin stopped and considered it for a second. The words he'd eventually said, the only ones he could, they _had_ been true. He did think this was to do with something earlier, the fae to be specific, though he hadn't said that.

"I told him it was to do with something I'd done earlier," he explained, "Which is true... the Sidhe..."

Leaning back in his chair, Gaius nodded again.

"It is said that the fae are unlike any other magical creatures," he said quietly, "In that their strengths and weaknesses are both many. Iron burns them, they cannot touch it, and their words hold such power that they can neither lie nor break a promise, though they are skilled in trickery to avoid both. What did they want with you?"

Merlin explained the story, how he had followed her and she had bound him, but he had refused to join her. Gaius nodded along, worry written across his face.

"It seems they have dealt you a curse to live as they do, but here, where such a thing could be almost impossible to survive... Perhaps they believe if you are weakened such then you will join them in their world."

"How do we undo it?"

There was a pause, as the weight of all that had been said set in, before Gaius spoke again.

"I don't know."

Merlin sighed.

"Arthur's armour is made out of iron, so is his sword. The castle's full of it, how am I supposed to do anything? I can't protect him if I can't go near him."

"I fear its worse than that," Gaius said quietly, "You can't lie to him."


	2. Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin has to learn to cope with the curse

Merlin woke up with his head resting on an open book, the pages inked with pictures of fae, and notes on their powers. After bandaging his hand, Gaius had handed him several books to read through, to try and find out how to lift the curse. So far, he hadn't found anything.

"You'll have to get up soon, Merlin," Gaius said softly, "Arthur will be needing his breakfast before too long."

Merlin groaned and sat up.

"Did you find anything?"

"I'm afraid not, nothing that will lift the curse except the fae themselves. Your magic and theirs is so different that it can't easily be undone. But I might have found some other things you ought to be wary of."

With another sigh, Merlin stood up. Being unable to touch iron, and unable to lie, was bad enough. If there was more still, he wasn't sure he'd be able to cope with this at all.

" _Emrys_ , put the book away on the shelf."

Merlin barely had time to process the words before his body was moving by itself, his arm feeling completely alien to him as it picked up the book and put it away. It felt like he had no control over his own movement, even his own thought, and when he tried to cry out, he found he couldn't. His own body had turned against his will.

"What did you just do to me?" he said eventually, once the book was put away.

"I feared as much. The fae are tied to their words and bound to obey anyone who knows their name."

"I have to listen... to _anyone_ who knows my name? Gaius, that's everyone!"

Already, he was struggling with the idea that he couldn't lie to Arthur. But being unable to disobey any direct order from him, feeling so helpless every time he spoke his name, it was unimaginable. Without his free will, he'd be weak to any threat that came, completely useless against any magical attack.

Perhaps this was what the fae wanted, to break him down until he could hold no power over them.

"No, Merlin, the fae are bound to those who know their _true_ names. Arthur, Gwen, and everyone else in Camelot only know you as Merlin, not Emrys. They can't control you without it, we must be grateful at least for that much."

" _They_ knew my name. The fae, I mean."

"Then we'd best pray they do not use it."

"Great, anything else?"

Relieved as he was that Arthur couldn't control him, that didn't mean he was safe. This was a type of curse he'd never seen before, and one he wasn't sure he could undo.

"Fae don't do manners, there may yet be a reason for that, though I don't know what it could be... Now, you ought to get yourself changed before Arthur needs waking..."

With a nod, Merlin disappeared into his room, trying desperately to think through how he could possibly get around this.

If he polished Arthur's armour, he'd burn. He was sure he'd read somewhere that too much iron could kill a fae, and though he didn't know if the curse would be strong enough for that, he didn't want to risk it. Even without touching the fork, he'd been able to feel the burn radiating off of it, and with armour and swords being so much larger, he wasn't sure he'd even be able to step into the armoury. But if he didn't, Arthur would ask why, and he couldn't lie to him. One wrong question and the secret he'd been hiding for years would spill out.

He didn't want to think about what might happen then.

**

"Rise and shine!"

Merlin ducked before the pillow hit him in the face, heading to fetch Arthur his clothes for the day.

"Not much to do today, sire, just a council meeting before lunch to discuss early preparations for the first harvests, and then training in the afternoon as normal."

There wasn't much more than a grunt in reply, but as Merlin picked out clothes and set them on the bed, Arthur sat up.

"What happened to your hand?"

"Oh," he stuttered, "Gaius bandaged it up."

"I can see that."

For a moment, Merlin's heart beat a little faster. If Arthur asked anything further, he wasn't sure he'd be able to find an answer. He couldn't risk Arthur's suspicion, not at a time when he was so vulnerable to questions.

Fortunately, he didn't, seeming to roll his eyes and pass it off as Merlin being an idiot.

"At least it's only your left hand. Can't have my own servant slacking off now."

"'Course not. What colour shirt for today then?"

With that, their conversation slipped back into routine, and Merlin breathed a soft sigh of relief as Arthur started complaining about some new lord who'd been getting on his nerves during the council discussions. There wasn't much for Merlin to say, since he couldn't remember who was who anyways, but he was grateful that he wasn't the focus anymore. He could let his own thoughts wander again.

Perhaps if he covered his hands, he'd be safe from the iron. Except, he didn't have any gloves, or thick cloth, and Arthur was sure to ask questions if he saw. Besides, that was assuming he could even get into the armoury, and he was slowly becoming more convinced that standing in that room could kill him.

There was no way around it. He would have to find some way to remove this curse.

"I'll need my clothes from yesterday washed, you didn't take those last night." Arthur returned to talking to him, now he was done complaining about lords and taxes. "The knights won't be needed at the council today, its nothing of interest to them, although I might see if Leon is available — he's usually got some smart ideas. So I'll need you to find Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan, and tell them I want them to help me with the newer knights starting from midday."

They shouldn't be too hard to find. With Camelot more settled into Arthur's reign, the knights had managed to fit themselves into their own routines, and if he could find them quickly enough, he'd have time to go back to Gaius before noon.

"I shouldn't say I need you to polish my armour before then," Arthur added as an afterthought.

For a moment, Merlin felt a great weight lift from his chest, but it came crashing down as soon as Arthur spoke again.

"But I will need you to make a start on sharpening the castle swords. If Camelot is attacked I'm not going to have much hope defending it with the metal sticks you've left us with. And the knights need to get a feel for the blades they'll be using."

Merlin almost pointed out that there was no reason to believe that Camelot was likely to be attacked at all in the near future, and a voice in his head added that if Morgana did come against him again, Arthur wouldn't survive by himself either way. But he couldn't say it, so instead, he just nodded, wondering if Arthur would notice if he left that chore for a few days.

Stupid thought. Of course he'd notice.

**

Once he'd left Arthur to his council meeting, he headed directly for Gaius. He had a few hours before he'd be called to serve Arthur an early lunch, and before then he had to find three knights, pass a message on, and sharpen the blades they would need. It was a light workload by anyone's standards — perhaps he owed that to the bandage on his hand — but it wasn't nearly time enough to do all that he really needed to do.

As he ran down the steps, he almost fell onto someone coming from his side as they crashed into him, knocking their basket onto the cobblestone.

"Brenner?"

"Merlin!" the boy almost shouted, "I-I'm really sorry!"

At 15 years old, the boy stood several inches shorter than Merlin, aided by how he preferred to look at the ground than at anyone's face. He was one of the lower servants, who Merlin had never had much interaction with, but tried to keep an eye out for, young as some of them had been when he'd first arrived.

Not many of them had spoken to him much, and he didn't know all of their names, but Brenner was one he had spoken to often. A few months back, he'd been kicked by a horse under the watch of a newer stable hand, and had been taken almost to the brink of death from the force of it. Under Uther's reign, Gaius wouldn't likely have been given the time to care for him, and he would have died that day, but Arthur had been far more sympathetic and allowed Merlin a little more time off to help the physician. It had taken time to heal, but under Gaius' care, the boy was left without any permanent injuries, though he'd had a nervous disposition ever since.

Merlin didn't have time to speak to him now, but he looked close to tears, and he couldn't help but wonder why.

"Where are you headed?"

"I... I was told to go and tend to the horses..."

"The horses?" he asked, a little shocked, "Why would...?"

"I broke a plate... It was an accident I promise, and they sent me out..."

Swearing slightly under his breath, Merlin nodded. He knew that some of the servants weren't so forgiving of their lowers as others, but this seemed a needlessly spiteful punishment even for them. But as he picked up the basket and handed it to him, he started to wonder if there might be a solution for them both.

"Here. I'll make sure they don't give you this again. It's not right."

It shouldn't be difficult to have Arthur speak to them about it. The King would agree that the punishment wouldn't be right, and a stern warning from him should easily be enough to end it.

"I'll see to the horses for today," he said quietly, taking the basket back, "You know how to sharpen swords, don't you?"

**

He brushed the horses down as quickly as he was able to without rousing suspicion. The basket had contained some feed and some new brushes, and the job hadn't been difficult at all, not with much already done by those who worked the stables. It was definitely a punishment for Brenner more than something that needed to be done, and Merlin only hoped that he'd made the right choice in sending the boy to do his work instead.

Brenner had sharpened swords before, and he'd told him to be out of the armoury before noon, but he couldn't be sure Arthur wouldn't notice. All he could do was pray that he wouldn't ask questions if he did.

As he packed up the brushes, and set the basket to one side, he tried to think through where he'd most likely find all the knights. He still had just over an hour and a half before Arthur would need him again, and hopefully Gaius had found something since this morning. Once he'd found them, he'd go home to ask. It was his only hope now; he was sure he wouldn't get so lucky tomorrow.

Elyan was at home, which Merlin was immensely grateful for. He'd been trying to improve in his father's trade, and was forging a dagger when Merlin arrived. Though he hadn't seen Gwaine, he'd agreed to meet Percival in the lower town soon, and promised to pass Arthur's message along when he saw him.

Now, Merlin just had to find Gwaine.

**

As it turned out, Gwaine found him first, and almost pulled him into a hug before Merlin saw the chainmail he was wearing, and flinched back. He tried to avoid the flash of concern in Gwaine's eyes.

"Merlin!"

"Can't talk for long, Gwaine. I've been sent to let you know that Arthur wants you to help run training at noon."

"Ah," Gwaine replied, looking up to the sky, "Still got some time before I'll need lunch then. I was just looking for you, actually."

"Oh," Merlin said, hoping it wasn't anything serious, "Why's that?"

"The lad in the armoury, said you sent him? What's his name? Poor kid looked scared out of his own skin to see me."

"You were in the armoury?" Merlin asked, sounding more worried than he'd have liked to, "Was anyone else? Is he alright?"

Gwaine was a good man, who Merlin knew would never have laughed at Brenner's flinching or stutter. But there were some knights he couldn't be so sure of. He didn't know if he'd forgive himself if he'd been hurt.

"Sometimes it's fun to throw blades at things of a morning," he shrugged, "And I won't tell the princess if that's what's worrying you. Just wondered what he was doing there. I tossed him a coin for his trouble and sent him on his way, sharpened a few swords myself before I came to ask you about it."

Carefully, Merlin explained how he'd run into Brenner in the courtyard, why him being sent to the horses was cruel, and how he'd offered to swap their chores. He didn't mention his own side of it, hoping that Gwaine would believe that it was a purely selfless act.

"And I suppose that worked well for you, too, what with your hand?"

It had been wishful thinking that he wouldn't notice, but at least he could simply nod at that.

"What'd you do to it, anyways?"

"Oh just... me being an idiot in the woods yesterday."

 _Technically true_ , he thought to himself. Nothing said he had to explain what exactly it was that he'd done.

"Ah, nothing new then. I'll see you later, look after yourself, Merlin."

He went to clap him on the shoulder, but Merlin flinched away again. As Gwaine had stepped forward, he'd felt a rush of heat from the iron across his chest, like it was a flame leaping forward, desperate for the chance to mark its claim on his skin. Once again, there was a flash of concern in his friends eyes, but he stepped back, giving him a nod instead as Merlin turned away.

"Oh, and Gwaine?"

He turned back.

"I probably haven't sharpened as many swords as Arthur wanted..."

"Ah, such a shame that. I was so hard to find you had to search the whole lower town first. Took you hours."

He winked conspiratorially.

"Go do whatever it is you servants do on a free morning. I'll make myself scarce and tell Arthur it's my fault you were so busy."

Merlin grinned, and nodded, before darting off out of sight, and praying that by the time he got to Gaius, they'd at least have somewhere to start.

**

Gaius had found nothing new, only an old story inked on the back page of some storybook about a faery who had broken a promise and died a painful and gruesome death for it. It didn't give Merlin any hope, but it made him shudder enough that he made a mental note to be very careful of any promises he might make, or vows he might give without thinking. Gaius promised to keep looking, but it was slowly starting to sound like whatever the fae had done to him was a power beyond what the himself could wield.

As he returned to Arthur's chambers with his lunch, he prayed that the rest of the day might at least go smoothly. If the king stayed in a good mood, he might get the evening off, and perhaps seek out Kilgharrah's help. With any luck, the dragon would know more than Gaius' books.

For now though, Merlin focused on how grateful he was that the tray he carried was _not_ made of iron. Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same for the cutlery, but Arthur took them from the tray by himself, and it seemed, for a moment, that he might be able to make it through the meal without an issue. That was, until the king set his plates and cutlery back upon the tray, and turned to look out the window, and Merlin started to wonder if maybe his magic had fought the curse better than his body.

With a flash of gold, he willed the metal to lift, just to hover an inch or so off the plate.

But as soon as he felt it grip hold of it, there was a searing pain in his temples, and a ringing in his ears that felt like his brain was being torn and ripped out of his head. Through his whole body, he felt a shudder pass through him, as if peeling his soul from his bones inch by inch, and then driving daggers through them both. The threads of magic that had cursed him seem to pull tighter, like ropes constricting around him and dragging the air from his lungs. He felt himself cry out through his gritted teeth, and then, as an afterthought before Arthur could turn around, slammed his hand against the wall beside him.

"Merlin?" Arthur turned around. "What-?"

"I hit my hand," Merlin said softly, willing his voice to hold steady as the pain rolled through him, "It isn't healed yet."

As the pain subsided, he was almost proud of himself for managing to make that true, and saving himself from the question before it had come. But any sense of achievement was soon drowned out with fear. His magic was not immune to this curse either. He had no defence left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Creating a character who exists purely to conveniently rescue Merlin? Noo.......
> 
> This chapter would have been longer but tbh I'm emotionally exhausted, so here's just essentially a filler chapter featuring suspicious Gwaine.


	3. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you can't lie, keeping the truth from observant and annoying knights is much harder than it should be.

The clashing of swords was almost relaxing to Merlin. It meant that Arthur was deep in his training, that he was focused away from him, that his attention wasn't on his servant. It meant that Merlin might be able to get through the next few hours unbothered — he'd already managed to avoid putting Arthur's armour on by asking if he could see Gaius to reapply the bandages.

"Merlin!"

Perhaps that was wishful thinking at best.

"Pass up another sword, will you?"

Arthur's voice didn't leave any room for questioning, or choice, and Merlin nodded as he walked to the swords. Though their blades were iron, the grips were bound in leather, and if he held them at an angle away from his body, the blaze that radiated from them couldn't reach him.

"Hurry up, _Merlin_ , I haven't got all day."

He apologised, though the king couldn't hear him, and grabbed the leather as quickly as he could, rushing to give it away again, and hoping he could pass his motions as completely natural. If Arthur noticed anything, he didn't show it, but as Merlin stepped away again, Gwaine frowned at him.

"Arthur, do you mind if I borrow Merlin?" Gwaine spoke up suddenly, "Could use a moving target."

For a brief moment, Arthur paused to consider it, and Merlin hoped that his hand might excuse him for today. He wasn't so lucky, and as Arthur handed him over with only a quick warning for Gwaine to be careful, he felt the colour drain from his face. Faced with a sword and holding a shield edged with iron, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold out for long, and then they'd all know something was seriously wrong.

It surprised him a little that Gwaine led him further away from Arthur, heading towards the corner so they weren't directly in the knights' sightlines anymore, but he didn't mind. It only meant that if something happened, perhaps he'd be able to talk Gwaine out of telling anyone.

As he held the shield out as comfortably as he could manage, he couldn't stop himself from flinching back at the metal flying towards him, as if it would burn straight through his only defence and bury itself deep into his skin. But the blow against the wood never came, and he opened his eyes to see the sword driven into the ground, and Gwaine looking at him with an unsettling mixture of confusion and concern.

"Merlin," he said simply, "Is there something wrong?"

His tone suggested he already knew that there _was_ , and was just waiting to see if Merlin would deny it. Normally, he would have, with a smile and a shake of his head, and a passing comment about Arthur working him half to death. But that wasn't an option today.

"That's a no then?" Gwaine replied to the silence, "Is it something Arthur's done?"

"No, no," he muttered quickly, and then looked away again, praying his friend might let it go.

Instead, Gwaine paused in thought, then picked up his sword again and walked closer to him. He willed himself not to react to it, but instinctive fear set in before he could stop it, a terror unnatural to him, but becoming far too normal in his life now. As he tensed, and shuddered away, Gwaine nodded.

"You can't touch the sword," he said simply, stating more than asking, "Why?"

He always had been far more observant than Arthur, not that that was setting the bar very high.

He also, Merlin realised suddenly, was not from Camelot. Having travelled all across the lands of Albion, he must have heard stories, and even if Merlin could worm his way out of this, he might figure it all out anyway.

To say this was bad would be a huge understatement.

"Merlin, give me something to work with here," he said, setting the blade down again, and reaching to squeeze his shoulder before Merlin flinched back, "You're scared of me?"

"I'm not. It's the armour."

"The sword and the armour?"

A nod.

"Why?"

"They're made of iron."

The question had been so direct he hadn't bothered to stop the truth from falling from his lips. There were no lies he could tell, and he wasn't sure he'd even be able to think of any Gwaine could believe.

"What's wrong with iron? 't's everywhere."

"Yeah... I'm learning that."

"Merlin."

"It burns," he said finally, knowing that by now, there was no getting out of this. Perhaps he could beg Gwaine to leave it be for now, promise to tell him another time when this damn curse was lifted and he had time to think of excuses.

"You're many things, my friend, but you're not a Sidhe. How the hell did you manage to upset them that badly?"

Shock passed over Merlin's face quicker than he could suppress it. For all Gwaine's travels and adventures, he hadn't expected him to make the connections so quickly. Tavern tales and old stories must pass around more than he'd thought, even of magic. In Camelot, even talk of such things could be dangerous, but it followed that it would be common elsewhere. Maybe Gwaine was far more knowledgable than he'd given credit for.

"I'm right, then? Hell, Merlin, that's almost impressive."

Merlin nodded, but kept his mouth firmly shut, desperately trying to avoid the question as long as he could. It was useless now — Gwaine would find out everything and he'd either turn against him himself or tell Arthur, and he didn't know which was worse.

"How'd you make 'em that angry?"

More than ever now, the panic of forced truth settled in Merlin's gut. He wanted nothing more than to laugh it off, to make a joke, to pretend it was only a case of wrong place, wrong time. But even as he thought of saying them, his throat tightened, choking the air from him and threatening to set his skin alight.

"I..." he forced out, but the words didn't come any further.

His own magic seemed to rise against the threat, working desperately to tear it apart and free him, but for all the power he knew he had, it did nothing. The tingling of his own magic seemed worlds apart from the spell that hurt him, and no matter how much of his own strength he pressed against it, it only fell away, like oil slipping off of water.

But that didn't mean he couldn't keep trying, and though the burning strangled him like knives digging under skin, he kept searching his mind for excuses he could give. Blinking tears from his eyes, he breathed softly through the pain, and begged that he could overcome it, just this once.

"Merlin," Gwaine said, softer now, perhaps regretting the pain he knew he was causing, "Let a friend help."

"Later." He gave up trying to escape. "I'll tell you... everything... later. Tonight, there's somewhere I need to go. Meet me outside Gaius' house at sundown. I'll tell you the truth."

"Alright."

Gwaine seemed a little taken aback at his words, as if finally realising there might be far more to the truth than one unfortunate magical encounter. But trust and gratitude shone in his eyes, as he nodded, despite all the fears racing through his mind.

"I'll be there," he added, his voice a little unsettled, but trying to sound sure.

As he turned to go back to the other knights, Merlin felt tears sting at his eyes again. There was no way out of this now. Either Gwaine kept his trust, or he betrayed him, and there was no way to know until the sun bled its last colours over the horizon.

This day could be his last here. This could end in bloodshed and tears. Gwaine was his truest friend, but he knew loyalty, and he had known magic as a danger through all his time here, and likely everywhere else too. He was loyal to a King, and that King was both Merlin's protector and greatest threat.

All Merlin could do was to hope and pray that Gwaine would understand.

**

Sunset had been quiet, the colours muted against the sky before it took the last of the day with it. Stars were beginning to appear in the easternmost sky, but it was still light enough around, and the candles inside hadn't yet been lit for night.

Gwaine paced outside the physician's quarters, waiting for any hint of the boy who'd agreed to meet him here, to tell him everything. In truth, Gwaine had no idea what to expect from him when he did. He knew that fae creatures were powerful and easy to offend, and when he'd asked, he'd been ready to hear some story of an insult not thought out, or a gift refused, or a small lie. Those were all enough to anger them — he'd heard many stories from men on their third or fourth pint of ale — but if it had only been that, Merlin would have laughed it off. More than that, he would have told them, told Arthur at least, to save himself the trouble of being hurt. But Arthur couldn't have known, or he wouldn't have put Merlin in that situation. For all his sins, Arthur was far from cruel, especially with no cause, so it was a secret kept from him too, even after what had happened to Merlin's hand.

No. Whatever had happened, it was far bigger than just the fae. And far more dangerous, to make Merlin look so panicked, afraid of one of his closest friends.

"You came." The voice followed the soft knock of a closing door.

"Was starting to think you wouldn't," Gwaine replied, but Merlin had walked past him before the words passed his lips.

"Gwaine, you're gonna have to trust me. We have to go somewhere else."

He nodded in reply, and followed Merlin silently, the dagger in his belt and trust in his friend enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other, even as they left the citadel, and headed out of the lower town. Neither of them really spoke, both too focused entirely on someing else, Gwaine on Merlin, and Merlin on getting out unnoticed. As they headed into the woods, they didn't so much as make eye contact, let alone speak, and that only broke when they reached a clearing.

"As fun as that might have been," Gwaine said as he sat down, "Mind telling me why we just snuck out of Camelot like criminals?"

"Because that's what I am."

Wind rattled through the trees around like creaking bones, the wind rising for just a moment, as if it too could feel the weight of the words released into the air. By now, the sky was dark and a slim crescent moon the only source of light aside from the stars, letting a sense of danger sit in the darkness. But Gwaine said nothing as Merlin turned away from him, simply staring up at the open sky and waiting for the truth to unravel.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glimmer of light, and looked back to Merlin to his eyes shimmering a deep gold, ablaze like the sun on the sea. His hands were cupped around each other, and as he muttered something under his breath and pulled them apart, a shadow danced out of them and spun into the air. Another whisper, and a glow of silver settled around it, and moth wings became visible for just a moment against the inky sky before it flew away again.

Beside him, Merlin's hands glowed softly, as he wrapped up light into a ball and set it beside them, as bright and brilliant as if he'd pulled a star from the night. Perhaps he had.

"Magic?"

Merlin only nodded, but in the new light, Gwaine could see tears shining in his eyes.

"Shoulda bloody guessed. Anyone ever told you you're too damn lucky?"

Though his tone was light, it only covered for the mixture of thoughts racing in his head. Concern and confusion seemed to be competing for his attention, but neither were truly winning; he was too focused on the fear in his friend's eyes.

"Merlin," he said quietly, "I won't tell anyone."

"Arthur would kill me..."

"You really believe that?"

"I can't lie right now."

That seemed enough to remind Gwaine of what it was that had lead them here.

"The curse?"

"Gaius thinks they must have cursed me to live like them. I can't touch iron, I can't break promises, and I can't tell a lie."

"Ah, but you still haven't told me," Gwaine grinned a little, "What the hell you did to get them that mad?"

"Told them I wouldn't overthrow the rulers of all the five kingdoms."

For a brief moment, there was a hint of shock in Gwaine's eyes. Something about Merlin's tone suggested that it was well within his capability, that it was a choice he made not to, but the idea of Merlin as even vaguely able to defend himself was still new. Magic wasn't a sin in his mind after all the people he'd met in his life, not that he'd ever suggest so to Arthur, but Merlin with magic was a concept so alien he wasn't quite sure what to do with it, even with the proof staring him in the face.

"What are you doing in Camelot?" was the question he settled on finally.

"Following my destiny."

"Which is?"

"Making sure our prat of a king doesn't end up dead."

Gwaine almost snorted.

"Seems to need a lotta help with that, doesn't he?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

For the first time that day, there was a true, genuine smile across Merlin's face, lighting his eyes even in the darkness. For the first time that day, Gwaine trusted that he'd be alright, they both would be.

But it vanished as soon as it appeared, and concern flashed across his features instead.

"There's something I need to do. Promise me you'll trust me?"

"Merlin, I've said you're safe with me."

He nodded, swallowed, and stood up, motioning for Gwaine to stay where they had been sat. Then, in a voice that seemed to shake the earth itself to pieces, he began to shout.

_"O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!_

The world seemed to pause for just a moment as the words hung in the air, before the wind returned and the trees bowed to it again. Merlin was looking to the sky, and Gwaine did the same, until he saw a shadow passing across the sky, bigger than any creature he'd ever seen before. As a dragon came into view of the light, he resisted the urge to run, to alert a guard, and to pull swords on it. Merlin had asked for his trust, and for all his secrets, he would trust him with his life.

"Young warlock," the beast said as it set itself upon the ground with a thud, "I see you have been cursed."

"It talks?"

It turned to him with a look of disdain, and he immediately regretted asking for the look of fire in its eyes.

"Sir Gwaine, the knights' strength, in sword and spirit both."

Gwaine started a little at the mention of his name, confusion more than anything showing on his face

"Uh... Merlin? Why does it know who I am?"

It rose to stand a little taller, the moonlight glinting off of its wings.

"I am a dragon, almost the last of my great and noble kind. I do more than talk. I know greater things than you can imagine, young knight."

"How did you know I've been cursed?" Merlin asked quickly, taking the attention back to himself again.

"I can feel the magic of the Sidhe running through you. It is tied to you, and yet it is so different from the magic of your own soul."

"I need you to remove the curse. I can't touch iron, or lie, and..." he stopped for a minute, "I can't break promises."

He tacked the last part on, as if it was clear that it wasn't what he'd originally intended to say, and Gwaine wondered what part of the curse he'd be reluctant to share with either of them. The dragon seemed to notice this too, and Gwaine thought he saw a flicker of amusement in its eyes.

"You must obey those who know your true name. Do not worry, I cannot use that against you, for the power of a dragonlord will always overrule all else."

"Isn't his name Merlin?" Gwaine spoke up again.

"That is the name his mother gave him. But Merlin was named by another word long ago by the druids and ancient prophecies, and that is the name which his soul may now be commanded by."

Gwaine made a mental note to ask Merlin about all these prophecies later, but the expression on his face seemed to suggest that he'd rather be talking about something else at this exact moment.

"I need you to remove the curse," Merlin repeated, "Otherwise Arthur will find out."

"Would that be truly so terrible?"

"He'd kill me!" he almost shouted, "Or banish me at the very least. And Albion would never come to be."

"One cannot hate that which truly makes it whole," the dragon sighed, "I cannot lift this curse."

"I command it of you!"

As he shouted it, the dragon recoiled slightly, and it occurred to Gwaine that this dragon really was completely under Merlin's control.

"I am not refusing you, young warlock, but a curse of the Sidhe is beyond my power to lift, especially one so tightly spun as this."

His words hung in the air, and Merlin's shoulders dropped a little in despair and fear. If the curse could not be lifted by a dragon, then there was nothing he himself could do against it, and he might be stuck like this for as long as the fae could hold, or until they chose to release him.

"The fae are more powerful than you?"

"Not at all, it is not so simple. There is destruction I could bring against them that they could have no defense against, as could you. But the fae are not of this world, Merlin, and their magic is greatly different from our own. The two cannot work against each other directly, just as water cannot wash oil. Such a curse as this, which has used the deepest of their magic, and many fae to bring it upon you, cannot be undone by our power alone. In order to break it, it would require a ritual which bound both magics to their core."

"And how do I do that?"

"It requires the binding of magic to the earth itself, on a day where the barriers between the worlds falls thinner. I can give you a part of the spell, but the rest is of the earth, and may be known only in the oldest of books. But to tie the magic properly, you need a day between a solstice and an equinox. The first harvest may work well enough."

Even in the soft light, Gwaine saw the colour drain from Merlin's face.

"Lammas is two weeks away..."

"Then you must wait two weeks. I am sorry, young warlock. But all I can do is grant you a part of the spell you will need then."

With that, the dragon reared slightly, before breathing a blast of warm air across him. For a brief moment, Gwaine thought he saw Merlin glowing slightly, but he couldn't quite be sure. Then, the dragon turned back to him.

"Sir Gwaine," was all it said, "You must understand that Merlin's destiny is far greater than you can know. If you were to betray him..."

It was a direct threat, and knowing how weak he would be against a dragon sent a shudder down his spine that he couldn't completely ignore. He wouldn't betray Merlin, not for Arthur, not for all of Camelot, but that didn't make it any more comforting to know what might happen if he did.

"I trust him," was all Merlin said.

"You have not seen the betrayals I have seen. You may have his trust, knight, but I want your word that you will not harm him, nor interrupt what he may do. You will not hand him over to any man, knight or king. I want your word, and be sure that I would know if you were to break it."

"I swear it."

The dragon nodded slowly.

"Then I have done all I can for you, young warlock. I shall await your call again."

As quickly as he had appeared in the clearing, he was gone, just a shadow on the horizon over a starlit sky, and Merlin was left looking up towards him, wondering where to go from here.

"A dragonlord too then?"

"It's a long story, Gwaine," he smiled, but his eyes had lost their light.

"I'd say we've probably got time, gotta walk back to Camelot after all."

"You really won't tell anyone? Not anything?"

"Merlin," he grinned softly, "That dragon would probably eat me if I did."

They both knew that the dragon's threat wasn't the reason. If he was doing what he believed to be right, no threat of pain or death would keep Gwaine from anything. To keep Merlin's secret from his friends meant that he trusted him, cared for him above honesty, and could never mean anything less. And for all the despair Merlin felt as he headed back to Camelot, that relief, and that care, kept him hopeful.

**

By morning, Merlin had searched through every one of Gaius' books until he'd found some pages on earth magic. There wasn't much, but enough to work with at least. The ritual didn't seem so complicated as he might have expected, though it might involve stealing a lot of candles from the castle and getting herbs from the woods, but there was no way of doing it sooner. He would have to survive almost two weeks of burning at the touch of armour, of being forced into truth no matter how much damage it might do.

"Merlin," Gaius spoke softly to him, "You'll need to head up to the castle soon. I can bandage your hand again, but there's not much more I can do..."

Until Lammas came, there was nothing anyone could do. He'd briefly considered trying to find the fae again, but he knew they would only try to force him into doing their bidding. Even with the Sidhe staff, he doubted he could win against them all, and even if he did, the curse may not lift. There was nothing to do but wait, and try and survive it as best he could.

That thought stayed with him as he fetched the King's breakfast from the kitchens, and took the tray up to wake him. The morning routine seemed to pass with as much fluency as it ever did, as Merlin handed him his food, and picked out his clothes as he ran through what needed to be done. There was a trial Arthur needed to oversee before noon, a few letters had arrived from neighbouring kingdoms, and there had been a few reports of wild boars worrying a village about half a day's ride east, according to the papers on his desk, but none of it seemed to be of great importance or urgency, and the day was mostly his to do whatever he chose with.

For Merlin, everything went as well as he could have hoped.

"Right, Merlin, I need you to make sure the dogs are walked and the dents in the armour are buffed out from yesterday, and I want my room cleaned before evening. Properly cleaned, I mean, don't just stick my things under the bed like you did last time."

"Noted," he said, grinning, and more than a little annoyed that he was robbed of the chance to deny it.

"Oh, and if you have time," he added, "Take some coins and head down to Gwen. She mentioned in passing yesterday that there's a few families she knows that have had a tough summer, a few kids that might appreciate something nice."

"That's... kind of you."

"Yeah, well it didn't come from me, alright? I can't really be seen to spend the royal gold buying gifts for children... And get yourself something good to eat if you're down there. Sometimes I wonder if Gaius feeds you, you look like a breeze could snap you in half."

With that, he leaned over and tossed Merlin a small leather bag, the coins inside clinking together as it was caught. Merlin wondered if in part this was an apology for training yesterday, since Gwaine had pretended to knock him down hard onto his arm, supposedly hurting his hand again, to get him out of being a target for any other knight. Arthur would never admit it, but he had looked a little guilty to have let that happen, even if he'd never apologise for it outright. But it was just as much genuine concern for those Gwen had mentioned. Arthur worried for his people more than he'd say.

"This is a lot of gold."

"Then keep the change." Arthur waved his hand as if he couldn't care less what happened to it, but it made Merlin smile a little. It was an apology of sorts, then. 

"Thank you."

He regretted the words as soon as they fell from his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Gwaine. 
> 
> Side note for context: Lammas (or Lughnasadh) is a harvest festival in some pagan calendars, notably the Wiccan wheel of the year, that takes place half way between the summer solstice and the autumnal equinox, or August 1. Its not especially known for the veil between worlds being thinner, but it is a cross quarter day so could have some magical significance I think.


	4. Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I spent like 3 weeks on this, I'll try not to be so long again, but I can't promise.  
> Also this may end up being 6 chapters, not 5, but I'm not sure yet.

_Thank you._

His words danced around in his ears, as if mocking him, and he knew immediately he'd made a grave mistake. Gaius had told him that the fae didn't do manners in the same way people did, and he realised now that there was a reason, and that whatever that was, he'd find out soon. As he'd said it, he'd noticed a small glow from Arthur's chest, like a spark lighting a candle for just a moment before it flickered away. Fortunately, the King hadn't seen anything, but Merlin wasn't so optimistic as to take any time to be relieved. Whatever he'd done, this was serious.

"Right, well off you go then," Arthur said again, "Go and polish the armour. I want you done with that and the cleaning before noon."

At the very first words he'd spoken, Merlin felt himself nod without ever making the decision to do so, and then turn to the door. He walked towards it, suddenly far too aware that that hadn't been his choice.

Just like when Gaius had used his true name. But Arthur hadn't known he was Emrys, all he had done was order him like he always did.

But Merlin had _thanked_ him.   
Perhaps... that made it just the same.

In his shock, he hadn't really registered the rest of Arthur's words - he didn't know where he was headed, though his feet certainly seemed to. It wasn't until he was walking across the courtyard that he remembered Arthur had instructed him to polish his armour.

And Merlin was unable to disobey.

**

"Gaius!"

The sun was almost at its highest point in the sky, and the physician had had a quiet morning, tainted only by his worry for his ward. So as the Knight burst into his house, he registered the panic in his eyes with more surprise than usual.

"Sir Gwaine? Can I help you?"

"Where's Merlin?"

He sounded a little out of breath as he'd said it, as if he'd run here, which didn't do much for the old man's hope that all was as it should be.

"I imagine he's with Arthur, that's where he normally is during the day. Why, are you in need of him?"

"No, he's not. I checked. Arthur's overseeing a trial, Merlin's not with him."

"He has many chores in a day," Gaius said, willing his own words to be true, "I'm sure he's simply busy elsewhere. I've no reason to believe anything is wrong."

But at the mention of chores, Gwaine had left again, leaving Gaius only to hope that his fears were unfounded.

As Gwaine walked away, his mind was racing of all the possibly places Merlin could be. He had no reason to believe he was in danger, but after what he now knew, fear for his closest friend would always play on his mind. Magic was a death sentence in Camelot, no matter how close you may be to the king, perhaps even more so if you were. Now, with a curse holding another axe over his neck, Gwaine felt a duty to Merlin to try and keep him safe as best he could.

Something felt _wrong_. He hadn't seen Merlin all day, despite usually noticing him scurrying around the castle as he went between his little jobs, or followed Arthur to help with whatever he needed. It was strange to have not seen him at all, especially after all that had happened.

Perhaps he was only overthinking, but he doubted that. There had been years in Gwaine's life when he had relied entirely on his gut feeling, been wholly dependent on his instincts of when to run and when to fight, of what dangers were worth risking, and what doors should never be opened. If he was worried, there was good reason.

So instead, he paused to think.   
_Where was the worst place Merlin could be?_

**

As he stepped into the armoury, he could almost touch the magic in the air. It wrapped around him, golden and burning and sour, and the feeling of it made his heart thud in his ears.

Turning the corner, he wasn't sure what he'd expected to see, but it wasn't the sight in front of him.

Merlin, who'd always been so bright, and so stubborn, was collapsed on the floor, limbs twisted at strange angles and looking so fragile Gwaine feared a strong breeze could shatter him like. glass. Across his face, and all his exposed skin, were red marks, patches, and welts, as though he'd been branded all over with a blazing rod. He looked broken, as if life had been drained from him, so far that it might never reach him again - as if he might never wake up. He had more injuries than Gwaine had seen on dead men. If it were anyone else, he might have believed him to be dead too.

But he couldn't be.   
Merlin wouldn't die on him.   
He was determined to believe that.

The shock started to settle into dread as questions filled his mind. But for now, he couldn't afford to waste time wondering what the hell Merlin was doing here. He needed to get him out, get him to Gaius, the one man who could keep him alive, who might be able to fix this.

Lifting Merlin over his shoulder was far easier than it would have been of any of the knights, and Gwaine was grateful for it, though that was eclipsed by the worry that settled in his gut. But he _was_ glad that it wasn't far from the armoury to the physician's quarters, and that the path between them was quiet enough that he could get through without anyone's questions. He wasn't sure how he could have answered them anyway. Nothing short of torture would tear Merlin's secret from his lips, and even then, he would fight it with everything he had - even from his friends, especially from his King - but he still wasn't fond of lies, not blatant ones anyway. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

He pushed through the physicians door without so much as a knock, laying Merlin down on the bed as soon as he got in, and trying not to share the panic he saw in Gaius' eyes.

"Merlin? What happened?"

"Found him in the armoury," was all Gwaine replied, "He's got a pulse, but I..."

Gaius was checking him over with a gaze Gwaine couldn't even begin to interpret, and panic was settling into cold, heavy, dread.

"Will he be okay?"

"I believe so. The wounds are many, but they aren't too deep. It was lucky you found him when you did."

The old man barely looked up as he said it, moving quickly between potions and poultices with a practised certainty, though his eyes betrayed his worry.

"I must ask you Sir Gwaine, not to tell anyone the circumstances of which you found him. I don't know what I can tell you, but Merlin's life could be in danger if people were to ask too many questions."

So Gaius knew. That was somewhat comforting, to know that Merlin had someone in his corner, someone far more knowledgeable and sensible than Gwaine himself could ever hope to be. But he only nodded at his words, not sure that this was the best time to bring up that he'd been threatened by a dragon.

"I've given him something to ease the pain, and applied a salve to the worst of the burns. Under normal circumstances, I'd do more, but we... need him awake as soon as possible if we are to know what happened."

Another nod, and then they sat in silence, Merlin lying motionless beside them both. It wasn't until the quiet became almost painful, that Gwaine went to speak again, to explain that he knew as well, to promise with all the honour he may have had, that Merlin would never be in any danger he could keep him from. But he never got the chance, as a sharp knock came at the door, and a voice came with it.

"Gaius, have you seen Merlin?"

 _Arthur_.

Neither of them had time to react before the door was open and the King was standing before them, his gaze immediately on Merlin, and a picture of pure concern. Gwaine resisted the urge to stand between them as Arthur stepped closer. He didn't know anything. For now, they were all safe.

"Wh- what happened to him?"

"Sir Gwaine found him in the armoury, sire," Gaius spoke quickly, and Gwaine couldn't help but wonder how his kept his voice so steady. He could feel his own heart hammering against his chest just thinking about what could be at stake if they couldn't be convincing enough in their lies. And at the same time, they still didn't know how Merlin had ended up so hurt. Surely, he wasn't stupid enough to just walk into a room full of iron. Even Merlin had more self preservation than that.

Frowning, Arthur stepped forward a little more, closing the gap between him and Merlin. Gwaine fought to keep his expression neutral.

"He's got burn marks..." Arthur muttered, a hint of barely concealed anger under his tone, "He was in the armoury, that couldn't have been an accident. Someone did this to him. Someone-"

"We can't say for sure, sire," Gaius interrupted, "I ask you please let him rest and explain when he is able to do so."

The words seemed to bring Arthur back towards reality, as the anger in his eyes softened.

"Right, yes, of course. I'll... leave you to your work, Gaius."

Under his breath, Gwaine sighed with relief, and let his shoulders fall as he sat forward. For now, the clouds across the sky had passed, and the air around him seemed to lighten as the tension dissipated. They were safe. Arthur suspicions could be averted when the time came again, when Merlin was awake and unharmed.

But as the King headed towards the door, it swung shut with a thud against the wood, and quiet laughter murmered around them, so soft that it seemed only to exist in the space between the real and the imagined. As if on cue, Merlin's eyes opened, the sunrise colour flooding his irises just as they had the night before. He wasn't seeing, wasn't awake, but his magic was at work anyway, struggling against the sleep of his body and mind as if clawing for an escape. Around him, a golden light burst out from his skin, flooding the room in a feeling that was warm, and strong, and bright, and undeniably, _Merlin_.

Years of training woven into his mind until it was instinctive brought the dagger out from Arthur's belt. His heart was loud in his ears, readying yet again to confront the magic that had threatened him and his friends so many times before. It didn't matter that his main thought was nothing but confusion. Merlin was hurt, magic was here, and he would fight it like he always had - that was something he could always be certain of.

He didn't let himself believe that the magic was safe, no matter how comforting it felt. He pushed away the warmth that spread under his skin, pulling tension from his muscles and stitching old wounds into fresh skin. It was explosive in its nature, filling the room in an instant, but it was gentle. It was the feeling of a smile between friends, of a hand on his arm when he most needed the comfort, of knowing someone was by his side. But he couldn't allow it to continue. It was a trick, it had to be. Sorcery was the greatest evil of the earth.

It was then that he noticed Gwaine had his dagger pulled from his belt too. Only his wasn't held loosely, anticipating an attack that might never come. His was held in a firm grip, the blade glinting against the glow, pointing directly towards Arthur's chest.

The expression in Gwaine's eyes left no room to believe that was an accident.

"Gwaine?"

Before he could answer, Merlin started coughing, dragging air from his lungs with a pained violence, and both men turned their attention to him, and away from each other. He wasn't conscious, that much was clear, but his eyes were still a bright, unmistakable gold, staring sightlessly to the ceiling.

This magic was his. Arthur didn't know how to deny that anymore. He knew the truth in his heart even as he first considered it.

"Sorcerer..."

He'd expected the word to be angry, to spit the pain of betrayal, but it wasn't. His voice was weak and broken, lost, the voice of a child left hurt and alone. It wasn't anger that tightened the grip on his blade, it was fear and betrayal. Fear that all he had been sure of was yet another lie. Fear that he didn't have the conviction to do what needed to be done, and determination to prove that he did.

"Arthur," Gwaine said, his tone firm but far gentler than his eyes, "Don't be an idiot."

Rage spilled through him then, at those words, finally picking up the broken pieces of emotion he'd felt before. Rage was an emotion far more befitting of a King. Rage was something he could handle.

"He has magic." He spat the words through gritted teeth. "I saw it. He's dangerous, Gwaine."

No one spoke. Gaius had averted his eyes, fixing his gaze so firmly to the floor he was almost able to hide the fear it held, betrayed only by how he trembled at Arthur's words. Gwaine didn't look away, though they both wished he could. The fire in his eyes matched those he looked at.

"Do you deny it?" Arthur spoke again. The magic he felt in his body was turning bitter and sharp, shattering into shards that bit and clawed at his heart. "Do you deny it, any of you?"

As he shouted, he saw Gaius flinch, and felt the urge to apologise, to throw himself to his knees and pretend this all wasn't true. But he didn't, he couldn't.

No one denied it.

"You've lied to me.... _He's_ lied to me. All this time I thought I could trust him. I thought I could trust you."

"Arthur, please. He has done nothing against the law but save your life!"

To hear Gaius so broken was something he had always hated. That desperate tone was rare, but when it came, it brought suffering with it. It said that the physician was afraid, that he was powerless, that death would follow with pain behind it.

"He _betrayed_ me."

No, he wouldn't cry, wouldn't stumble over his words. A King took betrayal and death in his stride, they were inevitable in the rule of a Kingdom.

But he'd never expected it to be Merlin who would hurt him like this. Merlin, who just a few minutes before, Arthur had been _frightened_ for, ready to draw the blood of whoever had hurt him. Merlin, who he had cared for more than propriety should ever have allowed, who had helped build the kingdom and taken all the suffering he had faced for it with the utmost loyalty.

Agravaine's betrayal had hurt, but this tore him apart. Merlin had wrestled his way to Arthur's heart, and now, that heart was being ripped out and shredded.

"I will, I will see him burn for this."

With that, Gwaine lunged forward, knocking the dagger from his hand and holding both to him. Where Gaius had been broken, Gwaine was angry, angrier than Arthur. There was no composure or nobility in his actions, only a willingness to fight until death forced his silence.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!"

"Could ask the same of you, _your_ _highness_."

"I'm your _King_ , Gwaine. You swore an oath to the laws of this land, to me."

"And I'll break it here and now."

Arthur's eyes widened, fear masking the anger for a brief moment, as the words he heard were punctuated by a dagger edging closer to his throat. Gwaine only breathed a laugh, dark and heavy, pulling the blade back only slightly.

"Are you hearing yourself, Arthur? Merlin, a traitor? That idiot is loyal to you with every drop of blood in his body and for the love of the goddess, I will never understand why."

"He practised sorcery! He chose to betray this kingdom and all it stands for! What else am I supposed to see?"

"You're supposed to see a _friend_ , Arthur. Not that you've ever treated him like one."

It felt like a slap to the face, to hear the word _friend_ now, knowing that despite what he might have admitted, that word had fit Merlin better than any. _Had_. He couldn't let it now, not anymore. Merlin would pay for what he had done.

"I won't let you hurt him, Pendragon."

Arthur pushed himself back, readying for another struggle if need be, but it never came.

Behind them, magic burst out again, and Merlin started to move once more. This time, it was more natural, and when he started to thrash about and mumble, they all realised together that he was waking. His breaths were laboured and heavy, and Gaius sat beside him, back turned to the Arthur, refusing to let his fear show.

"Is he okay?" Gwaine asked anxiously.

Arthur should have run, should have headed back to the castle before Merlin woke. Sorcery was dangerous. He could be hurt. He should have left while he still had the chance, written and signed the execution papers, prepared how he would explain this to the others.

But he didn't run, he couldn't. For all that he had been shown, for all the pain that the ache in his heart caused him as it tore up his muscles and bones, he still couldn't abandon Merlin. His feet stuck firmly in place.

He needed to know if he was okay.

"Arthur..." he heard muttered softly, a voice he was painfully familiar with.

"Gaius, Gwaine, I-"

"Sit back, Merlin, you'll do yourself no favours like this."

"I-I _thanked_ him, Gaius. It's like he knows my name. He told me to go to the armoury, I couldn't, I couldn't help it and..."

At the broken desperation of Merlin's tone, Arthur shifted forward to see him, unable to push him away any longer. Leaning closer, and trying to ignore the deadly look on Gwaine's face, he finally caught the eyes of the man who had betrayed his trust, and broken the both of them in doing so. 


	5. Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin wakes up to Arthur's anger and a sentence he'd spent years hoping to avoid.   
> Also the fae make a reappearance and that goes about as well as you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took so long and I am really sorry. I have excuses but they suck, but I WILL try not to spend as much time on the next one (watch me fail that).
> 
> Also yes, this isn't the last chapter of 5 as I promised... I need another chapter to fix everything. 
> 
> Side note for reference later: "dh" in cornish is pronounced "th"... for the name referenced later that's how that would be said.

Merlin's head was spinning more than anything he'd ever felt before. Across every inch of his skin, he could feel the sting of iron plates leaving red marks and welts, though not touching it much directly had saved him from far worse.

Gwaine was knelt in front of him, Gaius sat beside him as he checked his burns over again, making sure they hadn't worsened from the sudden movements he'd made in waking up. Between the pain and the dizziness, Merlin tried his best to explain, to tell them what had happened with Arthur, with saying _thank you,_ but his breathing was shallow and his words tumbled out more than he could control them. In truth, he wasn't sure what he was saying, or what was only thought. All he knew was panic, and that everything hurt.

And then, over Gwaine's shoulder, he caught the eyes of someone else.

_Arthur._

He was staring at him with almost hidden tears in his eyes, and a stone expression on his face. Hurt and betrayal was etched across his expression, but more than that, he was angry. Broken and angry, with the same fire in his eyes that caught light in battle, where he knew he was risking life.

Neither of them had to speak for Merlin to understand that he _knew_.

"Arthur?" he whispered softly, ignoring the fear in Gwaine's eyes, and the way he looked away from the King.

"You're a sorcerer," was all he got in return.

His voice didn't sound like that of a King. He sounded afraid, and confused, his world thrown upside down as he looked upon the one person he'd always believed he could trust above all others.

"You kept this from me. You lied."

"I never meant-"

"You're a _sorcerer_."

The word was spat as if it was disgusting to have on the tongue, and Merlin couldn't help but flinch at it. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Gwaine too, his fingers curled around the hilt of a dagger, and his heart ached. Gwaine had made a promise to him last night, to a friend, and Merlin knew that he would keep it no matter what it may cost him. The blade dancing reflections across the wall was mocking them both, a reminder that this could end in bloodshed and death.

"Was this some sort of grand scheme, then?" Arthur continued, his voice like stone despite the tears shining in his eyes, "To get into the castle, to stand against everything this kingdom is built on. To destroy it. Just like the rest of them."

For a moment, there was a silence so tense it could have been shattered like glass, before Merlin replied.

"I am your _friend_ , Arthur. I would never, I-"

"You are nothing but a _liar_ and a traitor!"

Merlin hadn't expected him to yell.

He'd expected the tension to last a few moments longer, for him to plan a way out for all of them before the dam broke and the weight of what they'd done came crashing down over them. But Arthur was stood up now, towering over them like he was prepared to run Merlin through on the spot. Somehow, it hurt even more than he'd expected it to, to know that the man he'd given everything to save would see his head on a spike as easily as look him in the eye.

But for all his hatred and anger, it wasn't _him_ gripping a dagger in his fist. It was Gwaine.

A blade was held again to Arthur's throat before anyone had time to react, pinning him against the wall with a practised violence. Arthur shoved back, but neither of them knew how it might have ended, because with a flash of gold in Merlin's eyes, they were both forced apart, collapsing to the floor with the dagger tossed carelessly between them.

Gwaine's head knocked against the floor and Gaius moved to check on him, but Arthur was left sat up, his gaze trained firmly on Merlin.

"You're dangerous," he spat.

Merlin didn't reply, even as Arthur stood up, picking up the dagger and walking towards him.

"I am sworn to uphold the laws of this land." The regal tone was back. "Those laws would have you executed at dawn for your treason."

"Arthur, I-"

"If you _ever_ had an ounce of common sense, you'll _leave_ before I have to make that order."

Tears were threatening to spill over Arthur's eyelashes and down his cheek, and he couldn't blink them away faster than they appeared. It hurt Merlin to see, that all they were meant to build and create together had crumbled like this. It hurt more to know that his friend, the man he'd given everything for, wasn't even going to give him a chance to explain.

"You can't do that, Arthur, I saved your life! I gave everything. I was ready to die for you, several times over! I've saved your neck more times than I can count, and your father's too, because..."

 _Because I thought you could be a better man._ That's what he'd wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat, and he turned his gaze away. He couldn't look at Arthur. It stung.

"Because...?"

The word almost fell to a whisper, but stayed just steady enough to demand a reply. Though truthfully, Merlin wasn't sure what he'd end up saying if he gave one, now that nothing short of honestly could pass his lips.

Why had he been willing to give so much for Arthur? Could he truly blame destiny for all of it? He wasn't sure anymore. At first, it had been a need for purpose, to prove to himself that he could be magic, and good, with neither contradicting the other. That he didn't have to be a monster to be himself. But in the years he'd been in Camelot, he'd used magic for both great and terrible things and seen others do the same. His reasons weren't the same anymore — they hadn't been for a long time.

 _Because I care about you._ That was the truth, itching and scratching to force its way out into the air. But he couldn't say it, no matter how honest it may be. Arthur was angry, Arthur was upset; Merlin couldn't conflict him more than he already had. He couldn't _hurt_ them both more than he already had.

"You will leave, Merlin."

He flinched at the coldness of the words perhaps more than the words themselves.

"You will leave Camelot." He almost his the tremble in his voice. Merlin wished he couldn't hear it at all. "You return on pain of death."

So this was it. After so many years of being at Arthur's side, of defending him, of trying to prove to himself and those of his kind that he was a better man that his father, this was how it ended — at Arthur's word, and in his anger.

"Your majesty, please..."

Merlin had almost forgotten Gaius was there, and found he couldn't look him in the eye now, for all the hurt he saw there.

"You betrayed me, Merlin," Arthur whispered, and Merlin willed his tears not to fall, "I trusted you above everyone, and it seems I was a fool for it."

A silence hung in the air, while he tried to find the words, to explain what he had done, to show how much he had given up for Arthur's sake, to shout at him how wrong he was until finally he might listen.

"Get out, Merlin." Arthur drew another breath. " _Now._ "

Just like when Arthur had ordered him to the armoury, Merlin felt his body act of his own accord. Only this time, it dragged out his magic too, pulling it from the depths of his soul where he kept it pushed away in secret. A word fell from his lips before he had even so much as thought about it.

Before anyone realised what might happen, Merlin was gone, vanished in a second to somewhere far away, leaving behind an equally shocked king and physician, and a knight who's eyes were opening again.

"Where's Merlin?" Gwaine muttered as he sat up again.

"Gone," Arthur said, turning back towards the door, "And you had both best hope he doesn't return. None of you will speak a word of what has happened here. You don't know what he is. You won't tell a soul. I don't want to have to sentence you too, though by my kingdom's law I should. Don't force my hand."

He didn't wait for so much as a nod before he left, slamming the door behind him.

**

Sunlight through the leaves dappled the forest floor where Merlin sat, his legs collapsed underneath him on the rocks and twigs across the ground. His mind was reeling, and his head spinning, desperately reaching for something to hold onto, a truth to clutch in his grasp while everything he knew fell apart around him.

 _Arthur knew_. Years of saving his life by his side, hidden in secrets, hoping one day to find the safety to truly be honest. That had been taken from him. Arthur knew and Arthur had banished him and he was still under Arthur's control. He hadn't even had chance to explain the curse, yet he was still held fast by it. And now, with the adrenaline and fear slowly ebbing away, he could feel its effects across his body — an ache through his bones and muscles, burns sketched over his arms and tearing at his skin. It was exhausting.

For perhaps he first time since he'd come to Camelot, he felt defeated. At everything he'd faced before, there had always been some hope he could find — that for what he'd lost, Arthur would live, Gwen would be safe, he was defending his family.

Now there was nothing.   
He was chained in a curse he could not break, bound to a man who hated him, lost to his friends. Kilgharrah had told him a half could never hate that which makes it whole, but the ache in his heart knew now that he had been wrong.

Had he been more awake, he would have paused to think a moment on what Arthur would tell them, to wonder how he might be remembered now he couldn't be near them. But the tiredness and pain both fought for his attention and left no room for anything else.

"Emrys, so it is that your dear King has turned against you."

A familiar voice rang from beside him, a voice made of both the whistle of a sword and the wind in the trees. He turned to see the fae lady he had met before, only this time, there was no true attempts to appear human. Her skin glowed with a soft blue which blurred the colour around her, and her eyes glowed with a brilliance he couldn't hold his gaze to.

"You are indebted to a man who cannot _bear_ to have you around him."

He didn't reply.

"You are hurt, Emrys." She knelt in front of him, taking his hand between her cold ones. "Come with us, let us heal you."

"What do you want from me?"

She laughed, raindrops hitting metal, and let him go as she stood again.

"Only for you to understand what you deserve to take. Your power and strengths equal and surpass ours. I have made my offer to you. Strike a bargain with us, Emrys, and the world could kneel at your feet."

"I-"

"You refused my gift once," she interrupted, "And you would again. But we wish to show you who is truly on your side. Surely, you must question your loyalties now? We wish to show you that you cannot trust those you choose to ally yourself with."

"By nearly killing me."

She laughed again, and Merlin was getting rather sick of the sound. All of this was a game to her, where she held all the cards and he had nothing to play in return.

"Oh, our curse could _never_ end your life, Emrys. Just as your name could not bind you to us forever as ours could to others. I have no wish to cause you harm or to force you, I desire a freely given promise."

A _promise_ , a bond he could never break — perhaps even after the curse was destroyed.

"Then tell me something," he almost spat, "If we are equals now, it seems a bit unfair for you to know my name, when I don't know yours."

"I'm not quite so foolish, Emrys. But if you desire something to call me, _Bedh_ may be to your liking."

As he looked up to her, her eyes flashed a sharp blue, the colour of lightning on water, and he felt panic rising in his throat. She was watching him like a hunter stalks a deer, and yet she wouldn't loose her arrow. They wanted more from him, and with grief and pain winning the battle against shock, he couldn't ignore the fear that they would find a way to take it.

"Come with us. We will heal your wounds. You have my word that for as long as you bring neither harm nor disrespect to me or my people, you will be safe and protected."

The pain on his skin seemed to scream more at the mention of healing, and he knew that without help, these wounds would kill him through infection or exhaustion even if their curse couldn't kill him directly. If he wanted to survive the next few days, there wasn't another choice.

He nodded.

**

They passed through to the world of the fae in what felt like no time at all. There had been a gate, then a warm glow from the stone and the mists that fell from them, and then Merlin was in a realm beyond what he could have imagined it to be.

Tree branches stretched into a sky that seemed to be a ghost of daylight, with leaves that danced in a soft wind, glowing in a myriad of low colours. Around him he could hear laughter and whispers surrounding him in layers and echoes, but he couldn't see who the voices belonged to. The world felt a little less than real.

"It is beautiful, is it not?"

He nodded, watching as a feather caught the light and spiralled to the ground.

"There is more you cannot see. Until you dine with us, this is all but a mask to your eyes." She waved her hand and the mists ahead of them cleared, revealing a structure of trees with interwoven branches twisted to make what could almost be a building. "Your eyes are yet still closed, Emrys. Sit with me."

As they stepped inside, a table appeared, with chairs either side. Wooden bowls of water and berries of kinds he'd never seen before lay upon it, and as she began to eat, she gestured for him to sit.

"Eat, Emrys, you must regain your strength."

"I'd rather not," was his only reply, sharp though he tried to soften his tone.

_Don't eat or drink anything._   
_Don't thank them._   
_Don't make careless promises._   
_And for summer's sake, don't make them angry._

"Very well, but sit. My people will heal you," she said simply.

As he did, he felt the aches and burns that littered his skin begin to soothe and fade, the unfamiliar magic bringing a comfort for the first time. For a moment, it might have been easy to forget that they were no friends of his. The relief was so beautiful he could have ignored that it was them who caused him the pain in the first place.

"So I'm here. Now what?" he asked as the warmth faded from his skin.

She smiled, the disguise that made her seem human crumbling away now that she was home.

"Now we bargain. You wish to lift the suffering put upon you, to allow our weaknesses to be returned to your human strengths. We wish for an ally."

"Why me? Why now?"

If he played the game right, she would take the curse from him, and he'd be free. If he didn't, Camelot would fall at his hand, and the deaths of those he loved would follow. And while his mind still raced with all the possibilities, all he could do was buy himself more time. She wanted a promise, and would likely give one in return, but the cost of either could be terrible.

For once, he couldn't rely on his magic. He had only his words, his mind, against one who had practised in bargains like these her whole life.

"Why you? I would have thought you would have realised that much," she spoke softly, "You are the most powerful sorceror to ever walk the earth. Your name, as the son of magic itself, has been known for far longer than any of my people have been alive."

She paused to pick another fruit from the bowl, her eyes never leaving his.

"And now you are here," she continued, "Magic has finally taken a human form. Destiny has all her cards on the table. To strike now, to take back a kingdom that is rightfully ours, we could shift the balance in our favour. With you at our side... we would be unstoppable."

"And why not just use my name?"

He couldn't honestly say he cared for their motivations, or the rules that their magic twisted around them. But every second she talked, every moment he could distract her, was more time he had to plan out what he was going to do.

"Your name was not freely given to us, it was not you who made it known to me. More than that, your soul is not like ours, nor is it as mortal as the rest of your kind. At your full power, you would be able to break that bond. But there are other's even stronger."

"And if I refuse?"

"I wouldn't advise it for you," she smiled a little too widely, "I have waited thousands of years for our worlds to be so close. I will take our revenge no matter what."

He tried to mask the chill that passed across his skin at her words. No matter what he did, Camelot, if not all of Albion, would fall if he couldn't stop her, no matter what bargain he made.

"I must admit I don't understand your loyalty. Why are you, a sorceror of the highest power, submitting yourself to those you could kill in an instant? Their mortal lives seem almost to matter more to you than your own might. Your King does not want you. Your kingdom would denounce you, pain you, have you burned alive. They should be grateful that you have allowed them their lives."

"Maybe you're right."

If he kept his words and meanings vague, his throat would allow them to pass. He didn't believe her, he would never, not after all he'd seen, all the people he held hope in, but she didn't need to know. As best he could with no lies to aid him, he had to let her believe she had won.

"Then will you let those loyalties change?"

He shuddered through a breath, marking his words out in his mind before he spoke. Whatever he said now would be his life or his death, more than that, it would be Arthur's fate and all Albion's with it.

"If I'm more hated in Camelot than I am cared for..." he all but muttered, hoping that despite the formality of them, she wouldn't see the words for what they were.

"I hope you see now that you are."

"Then, _Bedh_ , I promise to you that my magic is yours to command as much as it is mine."

It almost hurt to say, the sting of a promise dragging the air from his lungs and locking it away somewhere he could never reach. His words were bound to him, tied in a knot he could never undo. It was a lot to gamble, and he could only hope it was enough.

She'd shown only another grin at his words, and Merlin had to stop himself from sighing with relief at that. Either she hadn't noticed the conditions, the truth nature of what he'd agreed, or she was sure she could overcome them.

But the promise only counted _if_ he really was hated more than loved.

It was a dangerous bet to place, but it had only been a few hours since Arthur sent him away. It wasn't enough time for that to be true, not yet. Surely the knights, surely Gwen, couldn't all have heard of his treason and turned to hating him in such short time. Even, he thought with a lump in his throat, even if they had, the news couldn't have reached the rest of Camelot yet. The families he had helped as physician, the servants he was friendly with. Arthur wouldn't have announced it, not so soon. The King always needed time to prepare anything where he could be seen as vulnerable; he took time to lock his feelings away and plan his speeches with meticulous care. Surely, this was enough...

"If your word is kept, then I promise in return that no harm shall come to you from myself or my people, for any time that you are here."

As the words left her lips, she flinched at the sting they gave her, but the smug look on her face was still clear.

"Now, we must prepare. We have lost much time already, far more than we should if we are to catch the cross quarter."

She stood, pausing at the brief confusion in his eyes.

"Oh, time passes differently here, Emrys. Years can pass in seconds and hours can stretch to weeks. Your world has seen almost 12 days since we left."

He couldn't stop the cuss from spilling out as he kicked himself for his stupidity. In 12 days, gossip would undoubtedly spread like wildfire through the citadel. Arthur would have had to tell the people something. For his treason and betrayal, most would never consider forgiving him.

But as she turned away from him, the words they'd both pledged rung in his head. His power was hers only as much as it was his, and though he could not defend himself from her, they _could not hurt him_ as long as he was here. Kilgharrah had told him that he was as strong as them, that both fae and sorceror were defenceless to each other.

There was only one way to find out.

" _Bene byrne._ "

There was a pause after he spoke when the world seemed to freeze to listen. Above him, a falling leaf caught the glow that surrounded them and held itself suspended in the air. And then it turned itself to flame and everything turn to chaos.

As fire caught the trees around them, twisting itself up branches and over leaves, the realm of Elphame as he saw it began to shatter. Where the mists and warm glow had made everything seem a little less than real, the mask that covered the true world crumbled apart in the blaze. Creatures that had only been echoes of voices around him burst free, a flurry of wings and spells hurled towards him with a vicious anger and hatred. He cast a shield around himself, and poured all the magic he had left into keeping himself covered, hoping it could hold for just long enough to escape. Bedh screamed out, and he steadied himself for the fight for control that he knew would come with the promise he'd given, but though she begged and yelled, no struggle came. The fire burned on around them, turning every piece of beauty into the sharp, ugly, reality beneath.

As the shock began to fade, Merlin tried to clear the smoke, but the gateway that had led him here was closed. His magic was not theirs. He knew even before he tried that he couldn't open it.

 _He would die here_. Not from the fae, but from his own magic. But, as some. small comfort, he would die knowing that whatever Arthur may have believed, he never betrayed him. He would die knowing, or at least daring to believe, that his legacy was not that of a hated man.

A fae spell caught his arm despite his shields, and Bedh noticed it almost before he did. With him hurt, she had broken her promise, though through no doing of her own — but the consequence would be the same either way. Merlin couldn't quite look at her as she cried out in agony, willing away the memories of the story he'd read of a fae who'd done the same. For all she had done, he couldn't bring himself to wish her a painful death. It felt somewhat unfair.

It was only as crying and thick smoke surrounded him fully, choking out all his senses and racing his heart to keep him alive just a little longer, that he began to truly panic for his life.

_Come back!_

That was Arthur's voice, undeniably so, and as clear in his ear as if he were right beside him. But whether it was some magical hallucination or the last frightened imaginings of a soon dead man, he couldn't say.

_Come back, Merlin. Please._

His magic seemed to tingle in response, and as he let Arthur's voice fill his thoughts, he felt magic wrap around him, dragging him finally away from the world he had broken apart. Slowly, the mist dissipated, and he closed his eyes, letting himself fall away into it.

He opened them to a bedroom draped in Pendragon red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't proofread bc I wanted to get it out as soon as it was done since that took so long, but I might go back and edit later. But if you're confused about anything I can explain it if that helps! 
> 
> "Bedh" as a name here comes from "Beth" which I believe in an old celtic word for "birch", or at least it is within the druid zodiac. But Beth seems too modern so I switched the spelling using a Cornish pronunciation. Bedh in Cornish also means gravestone or tomb. This isn't at all important but its kind of a fun fact I guess?


	6. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin was gone for 12 days.  
> And then he came home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is over twice as long as several of my other chapters, but I didn't want to stretch it to 7 chapters total when I originally promised 5. But here it is, the end of the fic. 
> 
> Also I drank a lot of coffee before writing the end parts of this and I haven't proofread so... if they're out of character or its a bit of a mess I'm.... sorry... I might fix it up at a later date.

Sunlight cut through the gap between the curtains into Arthur's room, altogether too bright and too warm for waking up. Normally, Arthur knew, he would have been woken before the sun rose so far from the eastern horizon, but as he looked around the room he lay in, he remembered there was no one here to rouse him. He had worked himself to exhaustion on the wooden figures built to bear the brunts of training swords, and then fallen to an early rest, wishing more than anything that he could rid his mind of the image he had seen only hours before - of Merlin looking at him wide eyed in terror. He'd avoided everyone he saw, noble and servant alike, and held his tongue in the hope that Gwaine and Gaius might do the same.

Now, with a new dawn, he had to confront what he knew.

If he was honest with himself, he knew what his father would have done, but the more he thought on it, the more complex his opinions of that became. His father would have sent for guards the second the idea of sorcery appeared. His father would have cut Gwaine down where he stood, and sent them both to face trial for their treason.Under Uther's reign, Merlin would have burned at the stake this morning, the sorcery purged from his body by means of fire and smoke, as was both Camelot's law and custom.

For all their disagreements, Arthur had never considered Uther to be a truly cruel man. Unnecessarily harsh, perhaps, but in the eyes of his son, he had always acted in the best interests of the people he protected. Magic was a violent plague upon the land, which could only be stamped out by yet more violent means. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made in war, and where Camelot's citizens were at risk, bloodshed and gore was never too great a price to pay. This was something that had been drilled into him since he could walk and talk. These were the lessons a king wore like his crown, and must never dare to lose sight of.

Why, then, did the idea of Merlin on a pyre make him feel so sick?

It would have been the right sentence to pass. He would have overseen the execution this morning. But the image of Merlin tied up and broken, screaming and thrashing as he was torn apart, was more than Arthur could handle. And perhaps no better, the idea of Gaius leaving his service forever, of Gwaine returning his Camelot cape and putting his days of knighthood behind him with that same look of anger and resentment bright in his eyes as he left - it made Arthur want to curl up under a blanket and sob. He wasn't strong enough.

All three of them liars, traitors, and criminals. But he felt no more able to punish them than to chop his own sword arm from his shoulder. Not even the sting of the worst betrayal he had ever felt as King could change that.

Perhaps it was best like this. Gaius and Gwaine were good people, they'd both saved his life too many times not to be, and he knew from personal experience how tricky matters of magic could be. They would not have ever harmed him of their own volition, and with the sorceror banished from the kingdom, life could continue as it should. Neither of them would dare mention it if both their livelihoods were at stake - even if they would risk themselves, he doubted they would risk each other - and in time, of course, they would see reason and he would forgive them and all would be forgotten. All would be okay.

He kept that idea with him as he called the guards for another servant. As he dressed and prepared for the day, he fixed it in his mind and banished all his doubts.

He couldn't let himself remember that Merlin had saved his life too, as much as both of them.  
He couldn't let himself consider all the opportunities Merlin had had to hurt him, and how he had never taken a single one.  
He couldn't let himself think of how even as he admitted his guilt, Merlin had called him a _friend_ , nor how just two days ago, he might have agreed that was true.

As the morning turned to afternoon, he went through the motions of his day as normal. He read documents and signed them off, selected issues to discuss at council, read the reports of knights returning from the borders. It was the kind of day he had repeated so many times before that he almost didn't need to engage his mind, and while it was something he might have appreciated once, now he cursed it. It left him to his thoughts, allowed them to wander places he wasn't sure he wanted them to go.

Merlin had saved his life. He had spent years at Arthur's side and never once suggested he had anything less than complete faith in him, perhaps even more so than many of Arthur's men. Yet, he had betrayed Arthur in the worst way. He had committed a crime that was, in the eyes of the law, less defensible than murder. He had become something more evil than death itself, and in doing it had torn apart all the trust Arthur may have had in him.

 _Why_ would he do that? And why would he choose to stay? Almost every sorceror Arthur had ever known in Camelot had made an attempt on either his life or his father's. Merlin could have killed them both long ago if he had so chosen, but the shuddering breaths in Arthur's lungs every time he thought of it only served as a reminder that he hadn't.

"My lord?"

The voice was one he recognised well, though it still stung his heart. It brought him harshly back to a reality that had seemed briefly to almost slip away, and he had to look around to note where he'd ended up - a corridor in the castle somewhere between his rooms and the main hall.

"Guinevere?"

It wasn't often that they spoke still, except for matters of the lower town and people there, and sometimes it was easy to forget that they had once been engaged to be married. Shortly after her return, long talks between her, Arthur, and Gaius had discovered that it was likely she had been enchanted, that she'd never truly committed the crimes she was banished for. Gaius had revealed he wasn't convinced it was even Lancelot who had truly returned, and the more they had all thought about it, the more it had seemed that that must be true. They had both never been anything but loyal and honourable.

 _Merlin had helped them work it all out too_ _,_ Arthur remembered, then promptly pushed it from his mind.

Arthur and Gwen had forgiven each other, but for all that words might say, it was hard to forget what their actions had cost them. She'd been returned to her house, and been provided for, but they'd agreed that to rush back to what they had been might not be so easy so soon. In time, perhaps. But not yet.

"Did Merlin tend to you this morning?" Gwen asked, the formalities in her tone almost bitter.

"Why do you ask?"

She looked a little confused at the answer, but he couldn't blame her.

"He normally comes to see me in the evenings. I didn't see him yesterday," she replied a little gentler, "And I saw Gaius this morning. He looked a little worried."

"What did he tell you?"

"I didn't ask. Merlin's always with you and-"

"He's left Camelot."

As he said it, his gaze darted to the floor. It felt wrong to lie to her, someone who was close to both himself and Merlin. He'd wanted to lift his head and continue walking, but found he couldn't. Every muscle in his body seemed to tighten and tense as he waited for her to speak.

"Oh, well when's he coming back?"

The patterns on the floor suddenly seemed very interesting as he froze still where he stood, allowing his silence to speak for him. When he eventually looked up, he saw her shake her head softly, tears springing up behind her eyelashes.

"He's gone?"

"He left yesterday."

She shook her head again, more defiantly.

"No, he can't. He wouldn't leave like that, not without saying goodbye..."

"I'm sorry, Gwen."

And he was, more than anything. He was sorry he'd let Merlin get so close to all of them. He was sorry that he'd never noticed his treason before, that he'd let this pain fall to the people he was sworn to look after, and endangered them all in doing so.

Or at least that's what it was easiest to tell himself. In truth, he was most sorry that he'd sent Merlin away. He didn't want to never see him again.

"Wh- where did he go? Why?"

Why had he lied? Why had he let magic corrupt him? Why had he betrayed his friends, yet stayed in a kingdom that demanded his death?

"I don't know."

"Don't lie to me, Arthur."

It was a strength of tone he'd forgotten she had, and as he finally looked her in the eye, and saw the mix of emotions they held, he couldn't help the guilt that rose in his chest.

He didn't reply as he pushed past her and kept walking.

**

It was several days of painful quiet before he decided that he needed the truth. Almost a week of avoiding questions, keeping his head down, waiting for something to change. Every time he saw Gwaine or Gaius, he was painfully aware that all three of them were standing at the edge of something far more dangerous. They couldn't ignore this forever, but gods, Arthur wanted to. It was easier to balance between the danger and chaos that decision would bring, than to take action and risk falling into them.

Only when almost a week had passed did the tension become too great, and finally, with every part of his mind screaming against it, he called both Gaius and Gwaine to his chambers.

They knocked before entering, and Gaius bowed his head as he walked in, though Gwaine made no move to do the same. Arthur couldn't decide which stung more, knowing that it was perhaps only formality and law that kept Gaius with him, or seeing Gwaine look away as if Arthur was worth nothing more than the dirt on his boots.

"The princess has finally decided what he wants to do with us then, huh," was all Gwaine said, the dagger in his belt shining in the sunlight.

"Sit down."

For a moment, they both looked a little taken aback, but as Arthur gestured to the chairs before him, they took their seats. There was a brief pause of silence as they waited for him to say more, knowing all too well that they were all on thin ice, and that to be careless with their words and actions could have them plunging into darkness below.

"Where did you send him?" Gwaine spoke finally.

Arthur frowned in confusion.

"I didn't send him anywhere. I told him to leave and he listened."

"Not like he had much choice."

In his words, Arthur got the sense that he knew far more than he was letting on. Somewhere in all of this, he was missing large chunks of the truth.

"I need to know everything. All that you know. I can't in good conscience pass sentence on anyone without hearing the whole story, it wouldn't be right."

"I fear that may take a while, my lord."

Arthur caught Gaius' gaze as he looked up to say it, and noticed for the first time how tired and broken the old man looked. In all the years of knowing him, he'd never looked quite so exhausted as he did now, like life itself had left his eyes. He swallowed and pushed away the guilt.

"I have no business today. I have the time if you'll grant me yours."

A nod, and then Gaius started to speak, slowly at first, but with nerves fading as Arthur listened and nodded.

He told the story of a boy who was born with his eyes golden, who was doing magic as naturally as breathing even before he could walk. A boy who had magic dancing in his hands before he could even have spoken the spells to conjure it. He'd come to Camelot and saved Gaius' life as soon as he'd arrived, and then Arthur's not long after. And, in the years that passed, saved the lives of many within Camelot time and time again with the magic he had learned to control and bend to his will.

"Why?" Arthur asked when silence fell again, "He knew magic is illegal, he knew the punishment would be death if ever he was caught. He knew he was breaking the law."

"To save your life."

"And why do that? The law makes no exceptions for sorcery. He could have been killed at any time and he chose to stay, there has to be another motive for that."

Gaius sighed, and shook his head.

"That is something that is not mine to tell."

"It'd be too much for the King to say thank you, of course," Gwaine interrupted, almost spitting out Arthur's title as though it were a sour taste on his tongue.

"He betrayed me and broke the law."

"He saved your life. I don't know why he bothered either, but he still put himself in danger to do it."

"I take it you knew, then?"

Gwaine almost smiled then, and shook his head.

"Found out the day before you did. He was hurt, I wanted to know why. He wasn't able to lie his way out."

"How come?"

A pause hung heavy in the air and Gwaine looked to Gaius.

"He's been cursed, sire."

"Cursed?" Arthur sat up a little. "By who?"

"The fae."

Slowly, Gaius explained how Merlin had come home having met with the fae, how he had found himself unable to touch iron, unable to lie, unable to break a promise.

"Why would they do that? He's magical too isn't he?"

He ignored how Gwaine rolled his eyes. For not the first time, he felt like a child sat in the middle of all that was happening around him, with everyone else having some sort of understanding that was just out of his reach.

"He defended your royal arse again. They wanted his help to overthrow you. He refused them, and they got angry."

"I believe, sire, that they intended to prove his loyalties here were wasted. To force him to live with the same pain that they did, they hoped it might change his mind."

Arthur let his gaze wander to the window as he fell into thought. Knowing without a doubt that Merlin had kept so much from him stung even now. It seemed he hadn't come to terms with it as much as he'd thought he had.

"They wanted him to overthrow me? If sorcerors had that power Camelot would have fallen long ago."

"Merlin is no ordinary sorceror, sire."

Even Gwaine seemed to look to him in curiosity as Gaius spoke, his brow furrowed slightly as he waited for some explanation.

"There are those who say he's the most powerful sorceror to ever walk the earth."

" _Merlin_?!"

Arthur met Gwaine's eyes, and for the first time, he was sure they shared the same expression. He had never doubted Merlin's courage before, but to imagine him with great power was almost harder to see than magic. He'd assumed him to be the sort of sorceror that got caught for minor magic, the ones Arthur had always, despite everything he believed, felt pity for when Uther had sentenced them to death.

"Then Camelot ought to ready its defences."

"You're kidding, right?"

Arthur froze.

"After all Gaius has told you, you still believe he's a threat?"

"He's a powerful sorceror, who's met with powerful creatures. I've sentenced him to banishment or death, there's no reason for him not to turn against me."

"Do you really believe that?"

 _No_ , he couldn't help but think. But perhaps this was the easiest thing to believe, that Merlin was an enemy now. If he could finally put their friendship behind them, and stand firm as a King needed to, the future might be so much easier to face.

"You could put him on a pyre and he'd light it his damn self to save you the trouble." Gwaine rolled his eyes again. "If he'd ever had any ill intention towards you all he would have had to do is leave you alone."

"How did he get hurt?"

At first, Arthur only asked it to change the subject, not yet comfortable confronting his own emotions too head-on. But as the words passed his lips, he realised he didn't know. That was what had started it after all, Merlin passed out and burned on a bed, and magic coming to his rescue.

"The curse binds Merlin to all weaknesses of the fae. One such weakness is that he can be controlled by any who he is indebted to. I believe Merlin thanked you that morning?"

 _"Then keep the change,"_ he remembered saying, hoping the tone of voice could convey the apology he hadn't been able to say.

 _"Thank you,"_ he had heard in reply, and thought nothing of it at the time.

He nodded, blinking away the memory.

"In doing so, he bound himself to you, sire. Anything you asked him to do, he had no control over. You asked him to polish armour, and the iron burned him."

The guilt was already heavy, but knowing that this was his fault made it worse. No matter how he tried to imagine it, he knew Merlin had never been anything but faithful to him, and no echoes of his father's teachings could change that.

"Leave me," he said finally, "No harm will come to either of you. If anyone asks, Merlin has left Camelot. You don't know why."

"And what will you do about him, Arthur."

In response, the King gave the most honest answer he had all day.

"I don't know, Gwaine."

**

It was another few days before he felt like he even had a clue, more days yet without Merlin by his side, having his knights ask again if he'd heard anything from him, seeing Gwen's sadness and confusion as she walked among the people of the lower town. It made it hard to imagine carrying on like this.

Though he'd never admit it, he was worried too. He'd sent Merlin away with no control over where he might end up, and even with all the power Gaius claimed he had, with a curse over his head and unable to come home, all sorts of things could have happened to him. Morgana hadn't been heard from in over a year, but for her to find Merlin would surely still result in his death. Arthur didn't know how to face that.

Gaius had told him that Merlin was under his control, even though he might be far away. If that were true, Arthur could finally ask questions of the person he needed most to answer them, and trust that at least for now, they would be honest. Perhaps it was a gamble, but Arthur had already lost more than he had ever wished to. It had been twelve days since he'd seen Merlin. He missed him.

"Come back," he said softly to the emptiness of his room, "Come back, Merlin, please."

The flash of light that followed didn't seem quite real, a golden colour that filled the room so suddenly it was almost blinding. And when it cleared, Merlin was knelt on the floor in front of him.

"Arthur!"

He stood up almost immediately, and that was when Arthur noticed the blue light clinging to him, spitting a mixture of curses and hexes that he could barely hear. Merlin reached for the dagger that lay on Arthur's desk, it's silver handle making it far more decorative than efficient, and started to slash towards the creature.

In his panic, Arthur reached for the fork that lay on the tray that had delivered lunch to him, and as Merlin cast the blue light away from them both, threw it towards it. The iron hit it with a sickening crunch and a scream that seemed to shake the stone of the walls around them, before vanishing into a cold silence.

It was then that Merlin turned to Arthur, and allowed the king to see him for the first time. Across his face, the skin was darkened and smudged, where thick black smoke clung to his cheeks. His clothes were singed and torn, the edges of his sleeves turned to rags and ribbons. In his eyes, there was the haunted look of a man who had brushed with death, an expression Arthur had seen a little too often for comfort. He looked barely alive.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Merlin, but you look terrible."

Merlin smiled then, and for the briefest of moments, Arthur could believe that everything would be okay.

"What the hell were you doing?"

"Says the man who just killed a faery with a fork."

" _That_ was a faery?"

Merlin nodded, his smile vanished and the eye contact he gave forced as his body tensed a little, though he tried to keep his tone light.

"They don't like me very much."

Gesturing to his clothes, Arthur nodded.

"They burned you."

"No, I did that. It was aimed at them and I couldn't get out. I didn't think I'd get out of there alive."

"I'm glad you did."

He hadn't meant to say it, nor even think it, if truth be told, but the honesty to himself was somewhat refreshing at least. It was hard to regret it when Merlin smiled again.

"We should talk."

Another nod, and then Merlin was sat at the table as Arthur took the seat opposite him.

"How long have I been gone?"

"Twelve days. Gaius and Gwaine told me what happened, about the curse. And Gaius about the magic."

"I'm sorry, Arthur."

"Why did you never tell me?"

Merlin paused, an expression flashing across his face that Arthur couldn't decipher, and then he frowned. When he spoke, it was with words as cold and stuff as the iron that burned him.

"Because you reacted so well when you did find out, didn't you?"

"What-?"

"You didn't even give me chance to explain. You sent me away. I could have died. You would have killed me then if it weren't for Gwaine."

He wanted to deny it. He wasn't sure he'd be believed.

"Why should I have told you when I would have died for it?"

"Because I'm your _King_ , Merlin."

As soon as he noticed how his hands had balled into fists, he relaxed them, but it wasn't in time for Merlin not to see. Arthur raising his voice had silenced him, but at the cost of leaving him looking broken and afraid, and the king wished he could take the words back as soon as he said them.

"Then act like a King and sentence me like you're supposed to," he muttered bitterly, "It's not fair to let me hope that you might see me as a friend if you're going to turn around and be no better than your father."

With that, he went to leave, but Arthur's call to "wait" left him frozen by the table, standing, but unable to walk.

"I wanted to tell you," he said finally, "Because you're my friend. But if you want me dead then you don't _get_ to be angry. You don't get to be surprised I wouldn't tell-"

"No," he interrupted, "No. I had twelve days to think on it, Merlin, and I don't, I don't want you dead. I promised the druids peace despite the magic they were born with and practised, and I should owe you the same."

"I never betrayed you. No matter what you might think of me. I nearly died because of those creatures, but I _didn't betray you._ "

"I know."

Outside, a bird sang as it flew past the window. It was the only thing that cut through the silence.

"Sit down, Merlin," Arthur sighed, "And tell me the truth. Everything important. Everything you've done."

"I don't think you'll like me very much when I'm done."

"That is my decision to make, and mine alone. Tell me."

With that, Merlin started to tell the story. It was a similar one to what Gaius had told, only it gave far more detail. Arthur listened in silence as he heard how Merlin had arrived to Camelot, how he'd spoken with a dragon, and saved his life. He listened as memories of Sidhe, and poisons, and the sorceress Nimueh, came forward and spilled into the quiet of the room. From Morgana's betrayal, to Balinor's death, to the druid peoples and their prophecies, the curse that bound Merlin left no room for anything important to be left unsaid, and Arthur let the words wash over them both as he processed all that had happened.

By the time he was done, the sky was a deep indigo blue and the stars were peeking through gaps in the clouds. Both men were exhausted perhaps emotionally as much as physically, but there was still so much more they both felt they needed to say.

"That's all I have, Arthur."

Hours of near silence left him with more to tell Merlin than he ever could fit into one sentence, so instead he gave another.

"You may go."

"You're angry."

"More than I knew it was possible to be at one person," he almost whispered in reply, words stiff and broken, "While still being afraid to see them hurt. I knew I would face betrayal as King from the day I was coronated, I just never thought it would be you."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. You will go to your chambers. You will speak of this to no one but Gaius. You will be here early in the morning to rouse me as always."

He needed time. The weight of grief of all the secrets he had uncovered was almost as great as if he had lost Merlin forever. In time, it might pass, but tonight it was too fresh to heal yet. They both needed rest. And if they both prayed silently that the sunlight of a new dawn would wash everything away and they could go back to how it once was, then that would be the first thing they truly agreed since Merlin returned.

"And Merlin?" he added as he left, perhaps despite his better judgement, "Go safe."

**

When Merlin arrived to him the next morning, the sun was still low in the sky, turning the ceilings to pale gold. Arthur was already awake, sat up with a cloth tunic over his chest. And as Merlin walked in, he said nothing, letting the silence become suffocating in his fear of breaking it.

It had been last night that Merlin had told him everything, but it was this morning that the truth settled.

"You alright, sire? You're looking at me as if I've grown a second head."

Arthur didn't smile.

"No, just that you've been committing treason every day since I met you."

Ah.

"Bring me my clothes, Merlin."

Merlin barely had time to nod before he was moving to the wardrobe, and Arthur felt a twinge of guilt at commanding it of him. Both he and Gaius had said that his free will was bound to Arthur. Did that trouble him?

Did Arthur care? By all accounts he shouldn't, but he'd given up on that. It was a little too late to go back to asking what he was meant to do.

"Not the belt," he added quickly, "The buckle, its iron."

Another nod, although this one looked a lot more sincere. For a while, they fell back into silence and routine, as Arthur rose, and dressed. They'd had time to think, they'd waited, but they were both cowards, too unwilling to risk losing everything again when they were so close to having it back.

"Would you like me to go fetch your breakfast?"

Arthur shook his head.

"Sit with me, Merlin."

"You have a council meeting in a few hours, sire. We can't talk long."

"Was my father wrong?"

The words hung in the air, pinned by the sharpness of his tone, weighted down by the heaviness of what they could mean.

"That's... not my place to say."

"But I'm asking you."

In some way, it was comforting to see the proof that Merlin hadn't changed. The way he looked down to the floor, head tilted slightly to the left as he thought, it stirred memories of years before, times when Arthur had sought his counsel in the past. He wished this could be no different.

"As a child," he pressed a little further, "I never questioned what he said, no matter who the executions were. I learned long ago not to question it. But since Elyan... the druids, I haven't hunted for sorcerors, or for magic. My reign knows more peace from magical peoples than my father's."

"Fewer sorcerors want to attack you," Merlin spoke carefully, testing the danger of the words, "Its dangerous here for them and their families still, but not so much that they would risk their lives to see you off the throne. You are safer."

"Then I ask you again, Merlin, as a friend more than a King. Was my father wrong?"

There was a slight glimmer of tears in his friends eyes as he nodded. Arthur wasn't sure if he imagined them. And when he spoke, it was with a softness more eerie than silence.

"Magic is only as dangerous as the person who wields it. It can... it can be beautiful."

"I've never had chance to see it as such."

In all times Arthur had witnessed sorcery, it had been a weapon, with him or his men as the target. Sickness, poison, fire, and creatures that seemed as if they had crawled straight from the underworld, had all been used against him - Merlin had confirmed as such, told the stories himself. They had both been beaten and bruised by magical means, and yet Merlin had used magic in his defense. He'd risked everything and lost so much, and yet still saw the magic that had done that to him as something beautiful.

Though in Merlin's tone, there was not the conviction of one who had seen what he told. If magic were beautiful and good, that was something that had been withheld from him too. He spoke only with the force of someone who dared to keep hoping, who waited for sunrise under the midnight clouds in spite of the darkness he'd grown from.

"The years before I came here were the loneliest of my life," Merlin whispered, "I had no purpose for anything I was. I was born like this and I didn't know why, only that magic was everything I was. It still is. There's magic everywhere, there always will be, it's only as scary as you make it. And it gave me purpose here. Magic itself was never the enemy."

"You've suffered too, perhaps more than anyone. And yet you're so sure of that."

Merlin shook his head, his eyes almost falling closed. There was a curiosity in Arthur's eyes, as if he could feel he was finally knocking on a door that had been so long closed to him.

"Magic is everywhere. It's like, the feeling of standing on a hill with the wind brushing your face, or the sun in the spring when it's not quite warm enough to burn. The flowers and the trees when everything feels like it could sing, like everything's glowing with life and colour. Something that just feels a little bit... more than real, the moments when you're most alive."

"And that's all... magic?"

"That's the best I can describe it."

As the morning birds sang in chorus outside the window, and the wind brushed against the glass, Arthur watched Merlin listen. There was a sort of glow in his cheeks as he'd spoken, a wonder at life that he'd himself never reached, that was somewhat both childish and wise in nature. Despite the lies, this was Merlin, this was his same Merlin, and he knew on a deeper level than he'd first realised, that he was safe with him - he always had been.

"If I am to believe that my father was wrong," Arthur spoke again, twirling his mother's ring on his finger, "that bears a huge weight upon my own conscience. I can't claim the blood on my hands to be of noble cause. I've killed through hatred and anger more than fear. There's no honour in that."

"There's no honour in ignorance either. This is your kingdom now, and you're destined to be the greatest King Albion will ever know. You're not your father."

"It would so easy to treat you as the exception to a rule. You saved my life, I will spare yours. But if the rule is wrong... that changes everything."

"I didn't want you to have to choose..."

"Why did you do it?" Arthur sat up a little, eyes fixed to Merlin.

"Do what?"

"Save me, save my father, protect a kingdom that would kill you for what you were born as. You mention destiny, but that's not all. No man is a slave to choices he hasn't yet made, not even a sorceror. You could have... could have left, could have been safe, could have stayed out of Camelot and never set foot in this kingdom again..."

Words seemed to dance on Merlin's lips, but he didn't share them, gaze fixed on a point far away, outside the window, perhaps to a world that was kinder, that didn't break him as this one had.

"All that you sacrificed... What made us, what made me, worth that?"

"You're a prat," Merlin almost laughed, "But you're also a great King, and a kind man, and you're my friend, one of the best men I'll ever know. I wouldn't forgive myself if you were hurt."

"You really believe all that, don't you?"

"Couldn't say it if I didn't. Still cursed, remember?"

"Oh, so I really _am_ a prat then?"

Merlin did laugh a little then, light and warm and everything Arthur knew to be right with the world. He muttered something about there never being any doubt, and Arthur couldn't help but smile back at him.

"I'm going to be late for council. They're going to want to discuss wheat storage again."

"Anything for me to do while you're gone?"

"Go see Gwaine," Arthur said, as he took a step towards the door, "Only if you want, of course. But maybe let him know you're alive before he actually carries out whatever mad assassination he's been planning."

Another smile. It almost felt like everything was normal.

"Oh, and Gwen too. I think she missed you."

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing... Tell her the truth if you want. You've received a royal pardon, there's no reason for _her_ to want to kill me over it all."

"A royal pardon?"

It was hard to tell if Merlin was pleased or baffled.

"Well, whatever laws I may or may not end up reconsidering, _Mer_ lin, I'd really rather not put your head on a spike in the meantime, so I'd take it if I were you."

With that, he turned away again, but Merlin's voice interrupted before he could leave.

"Arthur," it spoke gently, _"Thank you."_

Arthur's first instinct was to march back over to him and slap his arm for being so careless with his words - surely after all he'd been through he'd have learned his lesson. But for all the idiocy Merlin might display, his words weren't an accident. In that simple phrase, there were a thousand more left unsaid.

Merlin was openly giving him his trust, handing over any last control that might have broken free. _Here,_ the silence after him said, _I will give everything I am to you. I trust you. I'm yours._ It was a promise, that he would do anything Arthur asked or needed, a vow that his loyalty was to him and him alone, that he would choose Arthur over and over again, with never a doubt in his mind.

So instead, Arthur walked over with a far calmer stride, and stood facing Merlin for the shortest of moments. It was only just long enough to drink in the sincerity of his words, the honesty in everything he never had to say. And then he pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug, letting Merlin's head rest on his shoulder as they both relaxed against each other. For the first time, there was no fear of the other between them, only the promise that everything was fixable, most of all each other.

"Don't you dare leave me again," he whispered so quietly he barely heard it himself, and then even quieter, "I couldn't lose you."

"You're going to be late, Arthur," Merlin muttered, but the smile on his face said he'd heard well enough.

They were alright.

**

Gwaine was sat cross legged on Arthur's bed, despite the disapproval of the Kings expression. Beside him, Gwen was sat on the corner, watching Merlin with a mixture of curiosity and care. They'd returned with him a few hours after he'd left this morning, and were now all sat in Arthur's chambers, a fire burning in the grate. All of them wore comfortable clothes, a sign that formality didn't exist within these four walls. They were friends before they were a king and his subjects, gave kindness before propriety.

They'd talked for a long while, old memories as much as magical stories. This was no interrogation, and the most important questions had been answered long ago. This was healing, of closing new wounds with a far older care and friendship. Beneath all of it, there was still a great deal of uncertainty — after all, this was a secret only afforded to a few, and one that could decide the fate of a kingdom — but there was time for that in days to come. For Merlin, the smiles they shared promised a safety so long withheld from him, a comfort he'd forgotten had ever existed. Even as Arthur bullied and teased him with the complete control the curse gave him, it was all in fun. Despite everything, he'd never felt so at peace.

By the time his two closest friends left, there was a redness about his cheeks from laughter. Old tavern stories, and childhood antics, had allowed them all to let loose around each other. And even now, with only Arthur and Merlin left in the room, the warmth and joy that had been brought was still woven into the air around them like echoes.

"You can lift the curse tomorrow?" Arthur asked as Merlin turned to straighten the pillows across his bed, a habit ingrained in him over almost a decade.

"I think so," he replied, "If I can get the candles and the spell right."

"I'll make sure you have anything you need."

"Does this mean I get the day off?"

Arthur couldn't help the smile on his face as he rolled his eyes a little.

"As if you haven't had enough already. But I suppose you deserve a few. The reward for saving my life, you should do it more often."

Merlin threw a pillow at him. He caught it in against his chest and threw back onto the bed, scrunching up the duvet where it landed, and making Merlin grumble at having to smooth it out again.

"We'll set out at first light, then," he said, "I'll have someone else prepare the horses."

"You promised not to fire me!" Merlin looked almost hurt as he echoed an earlier conversation, though the playfulness in his eyes gave him away.

"I'm not- You idiot... have you seen how much iron is in there? We're not going to get anywhere if you end up burning yourself before we even start!"

Something was muttered under Merlin's breath that Arthur didn't quite catch — perhaps an insult or an attempt to convince himself he was completely capable. And then, he seemed to cut himself off quite suddenly, and turn to point at Arthur.

"You're worrying about me."

It was an accusation of sorts, though they both knew the answer. Once, he would have denied it. But whether it was that it felt unfair to lie to a man who couldn't, or whether the weight of the last few weeks made him far less willing to hide himself away, he didn't now. Not entirely.

"I suppose I probably owe you that at least."

"Is that your way of trying to make it up to me?"

"What I probably should say is _thank you_ , isn't it? For everything I have, including my life."

Merlin's mouth was open to speak, but at the words he heard, it fell closed again for another moment.

"Tell me to do something."

"Why?"

"Just try it."

"You don't-" he started, and then gave in, "Fine, show me some magic."

Nothing.

Merlin only tilted his head in confusion, and then grinned.

"You can't tell me what to do anymore! You thanked me back!"

"Oh great, _now_ I can't make you shut up when I need to..."

With a roll of his eyes, Merlin opened his mouth to speak, only to seem to choke on his words, like there was a bitter taste squirming around in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, and Arthur was about to ask what was wrong, when he swallowed and seemed to cure himself, looking thoroughly annoyed.

"What did you manage to do to yourself there?"

"I _tried_ ," Merlin grumbled, "To say that I take everything back and you're actually a clotpole of a King. Apparently I'm still not allowed to do that."

"I could really get used to you only being allowed to tell the truth."

"We're going out to fix this _first thing_ tomorrow morning."

They laughed then, both of them, Arthur unable to hold in how utterly ridiculous Merlin looked when he was annoyed, and Merlin unable to pretend to be angry when in truth his heart was more happy than it had ever been.

"So..." Arthur asked when the smiles died down, "Does that mean I _can't_ make you show me some magic?"

Merlin stiffened, but he shook his head.

"Do you _want_ me to?"

He replied with a wave of his hand, and a slight nod. But despite his permission, Merlin only frowned, biting his lip a little as he paused.

"You're safe here," Arthur muttered, "Promise."

With a soft nod, that seemed to be all Merlin needed to hear. Slowly, like a knot easing itself loose, the magic built up inside of him started to unravel, twisting into the air around him without even a word to guide it. The air felt golden, like the sunrise that chases out the chill of a night wind, or the fire topped hills in the sunset. It was magic, but it was more than that, and when Arthur caught Merlin's eyes, he realised.

His eyes were not golden, like those of a sorceror, because he wasn't performing any kind of spell. His eyes were the same blue as always, only glowing a little brighter, and flecked with sparks that betrayed his power. For though he was a sorceror, this was more than magic. This was Emrys.

This was _Merlin_.

No magic had truly been done. He was only radiating that which was very much himself, finally bringing Arthur into the world he saw. This was the beauty he'd described before — something more than real, life that was more than alive. And it gave as much wonder as he'd shown.

Above them, sparks of bright flame gathered in the air, sharp gold finally appearing as Merlin uttered a spell. They spun themselves to shapes at his command, twisting and turning from dragons to flowers to butterflies in intricate dancing patterns.

This was the magic that had been so hidden from him. And, though Arthur hated the creatures that had hurt Merlin, he couldn't find it in himself to be angry at them now, for where it had lead him. Though he wished he could take back the pain and suffering that he had allowed and caused, he couldn't help but be grateful that the world had forgiven him. It must have, to give him this.

And when the sparks vanished around them, and Arthur wrapped his arms around him again, Merlin had never felt more at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Explanations and rambling ahead) 
> 
> I didn't want to go into depth about what would likely happen after the events of this fic, what with laws and the other knights, because I don't think it could be as simple or as soft as I've written the ending here. It was sort of hard to address Arthur's reactions, given how deeply ingrained his father's beliefs were in his mind. I find it hard to believe that he ever could have been very quick to renounce all of that. I think there would have been the urge to treat Merlin as an exception to the rule, rather than confront his own conflicting beliefs about the rule itself. So any reconsideration of the laws would take time, and a lot more conversations. Arthur would, of course, but years of not only being told to fear magic, but having it actively used against him, would take a while to fully unlearn, I think. 
> 
> Also, at the end of the day, despite everything, this was a magic reveal fic of Merlin's magic. Though I love Gwen, and Gwaine, and the rules of fae are really interesting, this was always going to be about Arthur and Merlin, whether that be romantically inclined or super close but purely platonic (though there are definitely some lines in here that are more slash, perhaps to an ooc extent, than I meant them to be... whoops). Merlin was in it for Arthur more than for magic, more even than for destiny. I tried to convey that here, though I can't say how well. The conversations they would have, that realisation of trust and of care, would be central to any conclusion here. So yes, this is definitely a lot more Arthur/Merlin than it could have been, but I can't say I regret that at all. 
> 
> Originally, I was going to write more of Gwaine's and Gwen's conversations with Merlin, perhaps after the curse was lifted. But it seemed more fitting to leave it where I did, with something described as beautiful, with Merlin feeling at home. Because the story I've written didn't really start with the fae, it started with canon s1, and it doesn't really end with them either. 
> 
> I'm kind of rambling which I'll blame on lots of coffee and not normally drinking it. But yes, the curse would be lifted. And laws would be changed, slowly at first, but with all the best intentions, because Merlin wouldn't let himself be an exception while others were hurt. And eventually, Merlin would get to tell his story to everyone else. 
> 
> And also... Some of you left truly amazing comments on chapters before this, and all I can say is I appreciate them so much, and I hope the ending did them justice. ❤️
> 
> ILY all ❤️❤️


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